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CAPTURED BY 


ALBANIAN BRIGANDS 


























/ 


4 * 


IN GREEK WATERS 


A STORY OF 

THE GRECIAN WAR OF INDEPENDENCE 

(1821-1827) 


BY 

/ 

G. A. HENTY 

- 

Author of “ Beric the Briton,” “ Condemned as a Nihilist,” etc. 


WITH TWELVE ILLUSTRATIONS BY W. S. STACEY, AND 




A MAP OF THE GRECIAN ARCHIPELAGO 








i 


OF Cfi\ 

ggPYRlUo 


SEP 13 


NEW YORK 






1392 

o 


CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS 3T 




1892 






1 



COPYRIGHT, 1892, BY 
CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS. 


PREFACE 


My dear Lads, 

The struggle known as the Greek War of Independence 
! lasted for six years (1821-27), an d had I attempted to give 
even an outline of the events this would have been a history 
and not a story. Moreover, six years is altogether beyond the 
length of time that can be included in a book for boys. For 
these reasons I have confined the story to the principal inci¬ 
dents of the first two years of the war; those of my readers 
who may wish to learn the whole history of the struggle I refer 
to Finlay’s well-known History of Greece , which I have followed 
! closely in my narration. 

As a rule in the stories of wars, especially of wars waged 
I for national independence, the dark side of the struggle is 
brightened by examples of patriotism and devotion, of heroic 
bravery, of humanity to the wounded, of disinterestedness and 
self-sacrifice. The war of Greek independence is an exception. 
The story is a dark one with scarcely a gleam of light. Never 
during modern times has a struggle been disgraced by such 
deeds of cruelty and massacre as those which prevailed on both 
sides. Such being the case, I have devoted less space than 
usual to the historical portion of my tale, and this plays but a 
subordinate part in the adventures of the Misericordia and her 
crew. 

Yours sincerely, 

G. A. HENTY. 

5 














































































































% 

































CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I. A Greek Student .n 

II. A Yacht.29 

III. The Wreck.47 

IV. A Startling Proposal.66 

V. Fitting Out.85 

VI. Under Weigh.107 

VII. A Change of Name.127 

VIII. A Besieged Village.145 

IX. Rescued .162 

X. A Daring Exploit.180 

XI. In the Hands of the Turks.197 

XII. Planning a Rescue.213 

XIII. The Pasha of Adalia.225 

XIV. Chios ... . . . . 243 

XV. A White Squall.259 

XVI. Fire-Ships. 277 


7 


















8 CONTENTS 

CHAPTER PAGE 

XVII. Rescuing the Garrison of Athens .... 295 

XVIII. A Turkish Defeat. 312 

XIX. Prisoners. 330 

XX. At Constantinople .. 348 

XXI. The “ Misericordia ” Again. 365 

XXII. All Ends Well. 385 







ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 

Captured by Albanian Brigands. Frontispiece 

“Well, youngster, what is it?” .. . 20 

Horace suggests a Rescue.52 

Their First Sight of the Schooner.82 

A Discussion about Clothes . ..no 

“Give them a round,” said Captain Martyn .... 148 

The Captain is Wounded.177 

The Greek Captives are brought on Deck . . . . 198 

The Capture of the Pasha.228 

Repelling the Turkish Boarders.279 

The Governor comes on Board.306 

The Doctor tells the Story.379 


Map of Grecian Archipelago.10 


9 

































IN GREEK WATERS 


CHAPTER I 


A GREEK STUDENT 



HE people of the little fishing village of Seaport 
were agreed on one subject, however much they 
might differ on others, namely, that Mr. Bever¬ 
idge was “a wonderful learned man.” In this 
respect they were proud of him: learned men 
came to visit him, and his name was widely known as the 
author of various treatises and books which were precious to 
deep scholars, and were held in high respect at the universi¬ 
ties. Most of the villagers were, however, of opinion that it 
would have been better for Seaport had Mr. Beveridge been a 
trifle less learned and a good'deal more practical. Naturally 
he would have been spoken of as the squire, for he was the 
owner of the whole parish, and his house was one of the finest 
in the county, which some of his ancestors had represented in 
parliament; but for all that it would have been ridiculous to 
call a man squire who had never been seen on horseback, and 
who, as was popularly believed, could not distinguish a field 
of potatoes from one of turnips. 

It was very seldom that Mr. Beveridge ventured outside the 
boundary-wall of his grounds, except, indeed, when he posted 
up to London to investigate some rare manuscript, or to pore 

11 












12 


IN GREEK WATERS 


over ancient books in the reading-room of the British Museum. 
He was never seen at the meetings of magistrates, or at social 
gatherings of any kind, and when his name was mentioned at 
these many shrugged their shoulders and said what a pity it was 
that one of the finest properties in the county should be in 
the hands of a man who was, to say the least of it, a little 
cracked. 

Mr. Beveridge’s father, when on a tour in the East as a 
young man, had fallen in love with and, to the intense indig¬ 
nation of his family, married a Greek lady. Upon coming 
into possession of the property, two years later, John Bever¬ 
idge settled down with his beautiful wife at the Hall, and lived 
in perfect happiness with her until her death. 

She had had but one child, a boy, the present owner of the 
Hall, who was twelve years old when she died. Happy as she 
was with her husband, Mrs. Beveridge had never ceased to 
regret the sunny skies of her native land. She seldom spoke 
of it to her husband, who hunted and shot, was a regular atten¬ 
dant at the board of magistrates, and attended personally to 
the management of his estate. He was a man of little senti¬ 
ment, and had but a poor opinion of the Greeks in general. 
But to Herbert she often talked of the days of her childhood, 
and imbued him with her own passionate love of her native 
country. This led him at school to devote himself to the 
study of Greek with such energy and ardour that he came to 
be considered as a prodigy, and going up to Oxford he neg¬ 
lected all other branches of study, mixed but little with other 
undergraduates, made no friends, but lived the life of a recluse, 
and was rewarded by being the only first-class man of his year, 
the examiners declaring that no such papers had ever before 
been sent in. 

Unfortunately for Herbert his father died a few months 
before he took his degree. He had neither understood nor 
appreciated his son’s devotion to study, and when others con¬ 
gratulated him upon the reputation he was already gaining at 
the university, he used to shrug his shoulders and say, “What 


A GREEK STUDENT 


13 


is the good of it? He has not got to work for his living. I 
would rather see him back a horse over a five-barred gate than 
write Greek like Homer.” He had frequently declared that 
directly Herbert took his degree he would go with him first 
for a few months up to London, and they would then travel 
together for a year or two so as to make him, as he said, a bit 
like other people. 

Left to his own devices at the death of his father Herbert 
Beveridge did not even go home after taking his degree, but, 
writing to the steward to shut up the house, started a week 
later for Greece, where he remained for three years, by the 
end of which time he was as perfectly acquainted with modern 
as with ancient Greek. Then he returned home, bringing 
with him two Greek attendants, turned the drawing-room into 
a library, and devoted himself to his favourite study. Three 
years later he married, or rather his aunt, Mrs. Fordyce, mar¬ 
ried him. That lady, who was the wife of a neighbouring 
squire, came over and, as she said, took him in hand. 

“This cannot go on, Herbert,” she said; “it is plainly your 
duty to marry.” 

“I have never thought of marrying, aunt.” 

“I daresay not, Herbert, but that is no reason why you 
shouldn’t marry. You don’t intend, I suppose, that this place, 
after being in the hands of our family for hundreds of years, 
is to be sold to strangers at your death. It is clearly your 
duty to marry and have children.” 

“But I don’t know anyone to marry.” 

“ I will find you a wife, Herbert. I know half a dozen nice 
girls, any one of whom would suit you. You want a thoroughly 
good, sensible wife, and then, perhaps, there would be some 
chance of your becoming like other people.” 

“I don’t want to become like other people, I only want to 
be let alone.” 

“Well, you see that is out of the question, Herbert. You 
shirk all your duties as a large land-owner; but this duty, at 
least, you cannot shirk. Let me see, to-day is Monday; on 


14 


IN GREEK WATERS 


Wednesday our gig shall be over here at half-past twelve, and 
you shall come over and lunch with me. I will have Miss 
Hendon there; she is in all respects suitable for you. She is 
fairly pretty, and very bright and domesticated, with plenty of 
common sense. She won’t have any money; for although her 
father’s estate is a nice one, she has four or five brothers, and 
I don’t suppose Mr. Hendon lays by a penny of his income. 
However, that matters very little. Now you must rouse your¬ 
self for a bit. This is an important business, you know, and 
has to be done. After it is over you will find it a great com¬ 
fort, and your wife will take all sorts of little worries off your 
hand. Of course if you don’t like Mary Hendon when you 
see her, I will find somebody else.” 

Herbert Beveridge resigned himself quietly, and became 
almost passive in this matter of his own marriage. He liked 
Mary Hendon when he had got over the shyness and discom¬ 
fort of the first visit, and three months later they were married. 
He then went back to his library again, and his wife took the 
management of the estate and house into her capable hands. 
During her lifetime Herbert Beveridge emerged to a certain 
extent from his shell. He became really fond of her, and 
occasionally accompanied her on her drives, went sometimes 
into society, and was generally considered to be improving 
fast. 

Ten years after marriage she died, and her husband fell 
back into his old ways. His life, however, was no longer 
quite solitary, for she had left him a boy eight years of age. 
He had been christened Horace, which was a sort of com¬ 
promise. Mr. Beveridge had wished that he should have the 
name of some Greek worthy—his favourites being either 
Themistocles or Aristides. His mother had called in Mrs. 
Fordyce to her assistance, and the two ladies together had 
succeeded in carrying their point. Mrs. Fordyce had urged 
that it would be a misfortune for the boy to bear either of 
these names. 

“ He will have to go to school, Herbert, of course, and the 


A GREEK STUDENT 


15 


boys would make his life a burden to him if he had either of 
the names you mention. I know what boys are; we have 
plenty of them in our family. If he were Aristides he would 
get the nickname of Tidy, which would be hideous. The 
other name is worse still; they would probably shorten it into 
Cockles, and I am sure you would not want the boy to be 
spoken of as Cockles Beveridge.” 

“I hate common names,” Mr. Beveridge said, “such as 
Jack, Bob, and Bill.” 

“Well, I think they are quite good enough for ordinary 
life, Herbert, but if you must have something classical why 
not take the name of Horace? One of Mary’s brothers is 
Horace, you know, and he would no doubt take it as a com¬ 
pliment if you gave the boy that name.” 

And so it was fixed for Horace. As soon as the child was 
old enough to go out without a nurse, Mr. Beveridge appointed 
one of his Greek servants to accompany him, in order that the 
child should pick up a knowledge of Greek; while he himself 
interested himself so far in him as to set aside his books and 
have him into the library for an hour a day, when he always 
talked to him in Greek. Thus at his mother’s death the boy 
was able to talk the language as fluently as English. In other 
respects he showed no signs whatever of taking after his 
father’s tastes. He was a sturdy boy, and evinced even 
greater antipathy than usual to learning the alphabet, and was 
never so happy as when he could persuade Marco to take him 
down to the beach to play with the fisher children. At his 
mother’s death he was carried off by Mrs. Fordyce, and spent 
the next six months with her and in the houses of his mother’s 
brothers, where there were children about his own age. At 
the end of that time a sort of family council was held, and 
Mrs. Fordyce went over to Seaport to see her nephew. 

“ What were you thinking about doing with the boy, Her¬ 
bert? ” 

“The boy? ” he asked vaguely, being engaged oir a paper 
throwing new light on the Greek particles when she entered. 



16 


IN GREEK WATERS 


“Naturally, Herbert, the boy, your boy; it is high time he 
went to school.” 

“ I was thinking the other day about getting a tutor for 
him.” 

“Getting fiddlesticks!” Mrs. Fordyce said sharply; “the 
boy wants companionship. What do you suppose he would 
become, moping about this big house alone ? He wants to 
play, if he is ever to grow up an active healthy man. No 
harm has been done yet, for dear Mary kept the house bright, 
and had the sense to let him pass most of his time in the open 
air, and not to want him always at her apron-string. If when 
he gets to the age of twenty he develops a taste for Greek— 
which Heaven forbid!—or for Chinese, or for any other 
heathen and out-of-the-way study, it will be quite time enough 
for him to take it up. The Beveridges have always been men 
of action. It is all very well, Herbert, to have one great 
scholar in the family; we all admit that it is a great credit to us; 
but two of them would ruin it. Happily I believe there is no 
record of a great scholar producing an equally great son. At 
any rate I do hope the boy will have a fair chance of growing 
into an active energetic man, and taking his place in the 
county.” 

“I have no wish it should be otherwise, aunt,” Herbert 
Beveridge said. “ I quite acknowledge that in some respects 
it would be better if I had not devoted myself so entirely to 
study, though my work has not been without fruit, I hope, 
for it is acknowledged that my book on the use of the di¬ 
gamma threw an entirely new light upon the subject. Still I 
cannot expect, nor do I wish, that Horace should follow in 
my footsteps. Indeed, I trust, that when I have finished my 
work, there will be little for a fresh labourer to glean in 
that direction. At any rate he is far too young to develop a 
bent in any direction whatever, and I think therefore that 
your proposal is a good one.” 

“ men m that case, Herbert, I think you cannot do better 
than send him with Horace Hendon’s two boys to school. 


A GREEK STUDENT 


17 


One is about his own age and one is a little older. The ejder 
boy has been there a year, and his father is well satisfied with 
the school.” 

“Very well, aunt. If you will ask Horace to make arrange¬ 
ments for the boy to go with his sons I am quite content it 
should be so.” 

So Horace Beveridge went, a week later, by coach with 
his cousins to a school at Exeter, some forty miles from Sea¬ 
port, and there remained until he was fourteen. He passed 
his holidays at home, never seeing his father until dinner¬ 
time, after which he spent two hours with him, a period of 
the day to which the boy always looked forward with some 
dread. Sometimes his father would chat cheerfully to him, 
always in modern Greek; at others he would sit silent and 
abstracted, waking up occasionally and making some abrupt 
remark to the boy, and then again lapsing into silence. 
When about the house and grounds Marco was his constant 
companion. The Greek, who was a mere lad when he had 
come to England, was fond of Horace, and having been a 
fisherman as a boy, he enjoyed almost as much as his charge 
did the boating and fishing expeditions upon which he accom¬ 
panied him. 

At this time Horace had a strong desire to go to sea, but 
even his Aunt Fordyce, when he broached the subject to her, 
would give him no hope or encouragement. 

“ If it had been ten years ago, Horace, it would have been 
another matter. The sea was a stirring life, then; and even 
had you only gone into the navy for a few years you would 
have seen lots of service, and might have distinguished your¬ 
self. As to staying in it, it would have been ridiculous for 
you as an only son. But now nothing could be more wretched 
than the position of a naval officer. All the world is at peace, 
and there does not appear to be the slightest chance of war 
anywhere for many years. Hundreds and hundreds of ships 
have been paid off and laid up, and there are thousands of 
officers on half-pay, and without the smallest chance of ever 


18 


IN GREEK WATERS 


getting employment again. You have arrived too late in the 
world for sailoring. Besides, I do not think in any case your 
father would consent to such a thing. I am happy to say that 
I do not think he has any idea, or even desire, that you should 
turn out a famous scholar as he is. But to a man like him it 
would seem terrible that your education should cease alto¬ 
gether at the age at which boys go into the navy, and that you 
should grow up knowing nothing of what he considers the 
essentials of a gentleman’s education. No, no, Horace, the 
sea is out of the question. You must go up to Eton, as ar¬ 
ranged, at the end of these holidays, and from Eton you must 
go through one of the universities. After that you can wander 
about for a bit and see the world, and you will see as much of 
it in six months that way as in twice as many years were you 
in the navy in these times of peace.” 

Horace looked a little downcast. 

“There is another thing, Horace,” his aunt said; “it would 
not be fair for you to go into the navy, even if there was 
nothing else against it.” 

“How is that, aunt? ” 

“Well, Horace, when there are hundreds of officers on 
half-pay, who can scarcely keep life together on the few 
pounds a year they get, it would be hard indeed for young 
fellows with money and influence to step into the places and 
keep them out.” 

“Yes, aunt, I did not think of that,” Horace said, brighten¬ 
ing up. “It certainly would be a beastly shame for a fellow 
who can do anything with himself to take the place of a man 
who can do nothing else.” 

“Besides, Horace,” his aunt went on, “if you like the sea 
so much as you do now when you have done with college, there 
is no reason why you should not get your father to let you 
either hire or buy a yacht and go where you like in her, in¬ 
stead of travelling about by land.” 

“That would be very jolly!” Horace exclaimed. “Yes, 
that would be really better than going to sea, because one 
could go where one liked.” 


A GREEK STUDENT 


19 

And so at the end of the holidays Horace went up to Eton. 
On his return home in the summer his father said: “ Your aunt 
was over here the other day, Horace, and she was telling me 
about that foolish idea you have of going to sea. I was glad 
to hear that you gave it up at once when she pointed out to 
you the absurdity of it. Her opinion is that as you are so 
fond of the water, and as Marco can manage a boat well, it 
would be a good thing for you to have one of your own, in¬ 
stead of going out always with the fishermen; the idea seemed 
to me a good one, so I got her to write to some one she knows 
at Exmouth, and he has spoken to the revenue officer there. 
They have been bothering me about what size it should be, 
and as I could not tell them whether it should be ten feet 
long or fifty, I said the matter must remain till you came home, 
and then Marco could go over with you to Exmouth and see 
the officer.” 

“ Oh, thank you very much, father! ” 

“It-is only right that you should be indulged in a matter 
like this, Horace. I know that you don’t care about riding 
alone, and I am sorry I can’t be more of a companion to you, 
but I have always my hands full of important work, and I 
know that for a boy of your age it must be very dull here. 
Choose any boat you like. I have been talking to Marco, 
and he says that she can be hauled up on the beach and lie 
there perfectly safe when you are away. Of course if neces¬ 
sary'he can have a young fellow or two from the village to 
help while you are at home. He seems to think that in that 
w&y you could have a boat of more comfortable size. I don’t 
know anything about it, so I have left the matter entirely to 
him and you. The difference of cost between a small boat 
and a large one is of no consequence one way or the other.” 

Accordingly, the next morning Marco and Horace started 
directly after breakfast in the carriage to catch the coach, 
which passed along the main road four miles from Seaport, 
and arrived at Exmouth at two. They had no difficulty in 
finding the house of Captain Martyn, whose title was an honor¬ 
ary one, he being a lieutenant of many years’ service. 


20 


IN GREEK WATERS 


“Is Captain Martyn in?” Horace asked the servant who 
opened the door. 

“No, sir; he is away in the cutter.” Horace stood aghast. 
It had never struck him that the officer might not be at home. 

“His son is in, Mr. William Martyn, if that will do,” the 
servant said, seeing the boy’s look of dismay. 

“I don’t know,” he said; “but at any rate I should like to 
see him.” 

“I will tell him, sir, if you will stay here.” 

A minute later a tall' powerfully-built young fellow of two 
or three-and-twenty came to the door. 

“Well, youngster, what is it?” he asked. 

“ I have come about buying a boat, sir. My name is Bever¬ 
idge. I believe Captain Martyn was kind enough to say that 
he would look out for a boat for us.” 

“ Oh, yes, I have heard about it: but whether it was a dinghy 
or a man-of-war that was wanted we couldn’t find out. Do 
you intend to manage her single-handed?” 

“Oh, no, sir! I have done a lot of sailing with the fisher¬ 
men at Seaport, but I could not manage a boat by myself, not 
if there was any wind. But Marco was a sailor among the 
Greek isles before he entered my father’s service.” 

“Want a comfortable craft,” the Greek, who had learned to 
speak a certain amount of English, said. “ Can have two or 
three hands.” 

“ Oh, you want a regular cruiser! Well, you are a lucky 
young chap, I must say. The idea of a young cub like you 
having a boat with two or three hands to knock about in! Do 
you want a captain, because I am to let? ” 

“No, sir, we don’t want a captain, and we don’t want a 
great big craft. Something about the size of a fishing-boat, I 
should say. Are you a sailor? ” 

“Yes, worse luck, I am a master’s mate, if you know what 
that is. It means a passed midshipman. I have been a 
master’s mate for four years, and am likely to be one all my 
life, for I have no more chance of getting a berth than I have 


A GREEK STUDENT 


21 


of being appointed a post-captain to-morrow. Well, I will put 
on my cap and go with you. I have been looking about since 
my father heard about a boat being wanted. The letter said 
nothing about your age, or what size of boat was wanted; it 
gave in fact no useful information whatever. It was about as 
much to the point as if they had said you wanted to have a 
house and did not say whether it was a two-roomed cottage or 
a country mansion. But I think I know of a little craft that 
would about suit you. Does your father sail himself? ” 

Horace could not help smiling at the idea. “No,” he said. 
“ My father cares for nothing but studying Greek. I am at 
Eton, but it is very slow in the holidays, and as I generally 
go out with the fishermen the best part of the time I am at 
home, he thought it would be a good thing for me to have a 
boat of my own.” 

William Martyn looked quietly down at the lad, then went 
in and got his cap, rejoined them, and sauntered down tow¬ 
ards the river. He led the way along the wharfs, passed 
above the town, and then pointed to a boat lying on the mud. 

“That is the craft I should choose if I were in your place,” 
he said. “She is as sound as a bell, and I wouldn’t mind 
crossing the Bay of Biscay in her.” 

“But she is very large,” Horace said, looking at her with 
some doubt in his face. 

“She is about fifteen tons burthen,” he said, “built of oak, 
and is only eight years old, though* she looks battered about 
and rusty as she lies there. She was built from his own de¬ 
signs by Captain Burrows, as good a sailor as ever stepped. 
She is forty feet long and fifteen feet beam. She is fast, 
and a splendid sea-boat, with four foot draft of water. He 
died three years after he built her, and she has been lying 
there ever since. Her gear has been all stowed away in a dry 
place, and the old sailor in charge of it says it is in perfect 
order. The old captain used to knock about on board of her 
with only a man and a boy, and she is as easy to handle as a 
cock-boat. I was out in her more than once when I was at 


22 


IN GREEK WATERS 


home on leave, and she is a beauty. Of course you can’t 
judge of her as she lies there; but she has wonderfully easy 
lines, and sits the water like a duck. She is a dandy, you see; 
that is, she carries a small mizzen mast. She was rigged so 
because a craft like that is a good deal easier to work short- 
handed than a cutter.” 

She seemed as she lay there so much larger than anything 
Horace had had the idea of possessing that he looked doubt¬ 
fully at Marco. 

“I think she will do,” the Greek said; “just the sort of 
boat for us. See her when tide comes up, and can go on 
board. How much cost? ” 

“They only want eighty pounds for her,” William Martyn 
said. “They asked a hundred and fifty at first; but every¬ 
thing is so dull, and there have been such a lot of small craft 
sold off from the dockyards, that, she has not found a pur¬ 
chaser. If I had two or three hundred a year of my own there 
is nothing I should like better than to own that craft and knock 
about in her. Her only fault is she wants head-room. There 
is only five foot under her beams, for she has a low freeboard. 
That prevents her from being sold as a yacht. But as one 
does not want to walk about much below I don’t see that that 
matters. She has got a roomy cabin and a nice little state¬ 
room for the owner, and a fo’castle big enough for six hands.” 

“It would be splendid,” Horace said. “But do you think, 
Marco, my father meant liie to have such a large boat as this? ” 

The Greek nodded. “Master said buy a good big safe 
boat. No use getting a little thing Mr. Horace tire of in a 
year or two. Can always get a man or two in the holidays. I 
think that is just the boat.” 

“Tide has nearly reached her,” William Martyn said. 
“We shall be able to get off to her in an hour. We will go 
and overhaul the gear now. I will get the key of the cabins.” 

It took them a good hour to get out the sails and inspect 
them, and examine the ropes and gear. All were pronounced 
in good order. 


A GREEK STUDENT 


23 


“ The sails are as good for all practical purposes as the day 
they were turned out,” Martyn said. “They may not be quite 
[* as white as the fresh-water sailors about here think necessary 
! for their pleasure craft, but they are sound and strong, and 
| were well scrubbed before they were put away. And you may 
be sure Burrows used none but the best rope money could buy. 
Now we will go on board. She will look a different craft 
i when her decks are holy-stoned, and she gets two or three 
j coats of paint,” the young officer went on as they stepped on 
board. “A landsman can never judge of a boat when she is 
dismantled, and he can’t judge much at any time. He thinks 
I more of paint and polish than he does of a ship’s lines.” 

But Horace had seen enough of boats to be able to appre- 
1 ciate to some extent the easy lines of her bow and her fine 
' run, and the Greek was delighted with her. Below she was in 
good order, except that she wanted a coat of paint. The 
cabins were of course entirely dismantled, but Horace was 
surprised at their roominess, accustomed as he was to the close 
, little fo’castles of the fishing-boats. 

“She was fitted up in a regular man-of-war fashion,” Mar- 
j tyn said. “This was just a captain’s cabin on board a frigate, 

; but on a small scale, and so was the state-room. We did not 
see the furniture, but it is all upstairs in an attic of the cot¬ 
tage we went to.” 

“How long would it take to get her ready? ” Horace asked. 

“About ten days. Most of her ballast is out of her, but 
the rest ought to come out so as to give her a regular clean 
down, and a coat of whitewash below, before it is all put in 
again. If you like, young ’un, I will look after that. I have 
got nothing to do, and it will be an amusement to me. I am 
looking for a berth at present in a merchantman, but there are 
such a number of men out of harness that it isn’t easy to get 
a job. Look here, if you really want to learn some day to be 
fit to take charge of this craft yourself, you could not do better 
than persuade your father to let you come over here and see 
her fitted up, then you will know where every rope goes, and 







24 


IN GREEK WATERS 


learn more than you would sitting about on deck in the course 
of a year. There will be no difficulty in getting a couple of 
rooms ready for you and your man in the town.” 

“Can we get home to-night, sir?” 

“Yes, the coach goes through here at six o’clock.” 

“My father will write to-morrow, at least I expect he will,” 
Horace said. “It isn’t very easy to get him to do things, but 
I expect I shall manage.” 

“He will write,” Marco said confidently; and as the boy 
knew that the Greek had far more opportunities of getting at 
his father than he had, he felt sure that he would manage it. 

“We are very much obliged to you, Mr. Martyn,” he said. 

“All right, young sir. If your father decides to take the 
boat get him to write to me; or if he is bad at writing, write 
to me yourself after settling it with him, and I will put on 
men and see that she is ready for sea in a fortnight.” 

“ Do you feel sure father will let me have the boat, Marco? ” 
Horace said as soon as they were alone. 

“It is done,” the Greek said with a wave of his hand. 
“He said to me, ‘Go and buy a proper boat, see that every¬ 
thing is right about it, but don’t worry me.’ So when I say, 
‘I have bought the boat; it is just the thing we want; it will 
cost a hundred pounds by the time it is ready for sea,’ he will 
say he is glad to hear it, and there will be an end of it. Mr. 
Beveridge never troubles.” 

“And will you tell him that it would be a good thing for 
me to go over and see her fitted up?” 

“I will tell him. He will be glad to know that you have 
got something to do.” 

It was half-past ten o’clock when they got home. The 
other Greek opened the door. 

“Is the master in bed yet,Zaimes? ” 

“ He went upstairs ten minutes ago. I think he had for¬ 
gotten all about Horace not being at home. He did not men¬ 
tion his name to me.” 

“What a nuisance!” Horace said. “Now I shall have to 





A GREEK STUDENT 


25 


wait till morning before I know about it, and I am so anxious 
to hear what he says.” 

“It will be all the pleasanter when you hear,” Zaimes said 
quietly. 

The two men were brothers, Zaimes being ten years senior. 
He was Mr. Beveridge’s valet, his brother being a sort of 
general assistant, waiting at meals except when Horace was at 
home, when he was considered specially told off to him. 
They lived apart from the other servants, having a, room of 
their own where they cooked their meals in their own fashion. 
Both were extremely attached to their master, and would have 
given their lives for him. 

“Marco will tell me all about it, and I will-talk to the 
master while I am dressing him. You are making'-Marco 
again a boy like yourself, Horace. He is as eagjeFabbut this 
boat as you are”; and he smiled indulgently at his brother, 
whom he still regarded as a boy, although he was now nearly 
forty. . 

“ That will be the best plan, Zaimes. I shall be glad for 
him to know all about it before breakfast time, for Iam sure 
I should not like to tell him that we had fixed oir a boat like 
that.” 

Horace was a long time before he got to sleep. He had 
never dreamt of anything bigger thgp^an open boat, and the 
thought of having a craft that he could sail anywhere along 
the coast, and even sleep on board, seemed almost too good 
to be true. He woke an hour before his time, dressed hastily, 
went out into the garden, and stood there looking over the 
sea. The fishing-boats were going out, and he pictured to 
himself the boat he had seen, gliding along among them, 
bigger and ever so much handsomer than any of them; and 
how he would be able to take out his cousins, and perhaps 
some day have a school friend to spend the holidays with him 
and cruise about. So deep was he in his thoughts that he was 
surprised when he heard the bell ring for breakfast. 

“Now, then,” he said to himself as he walked back to the 


26 


IN GREEK WATERS 


house, “I shall know. Of course it will be a horrible disap¬ 
pointment if he says no, but I sha’n’t show it, because it is 
too much to expect him to do this. I should never have 
dreamt of such a thing if it had not been for Marco. Well, 
here goes”; and he walked into the parlour. 

“Good morning, father!” 

“ Good morning, Horace. I am glad to hear that Marco 
has found just the boat that he thinks will suit the place. He 
tells me you want to go over and see her fitted out. I think 
that that will be a very good plan. When you do a thing, 
Horace, do it well if it is worth doing at all. Marco will go 
back with you by the coach this morning.” 

“Oh, thank you, father; it is awfully kind of you! ” 

“I wish you to enjoy yourself,” his father said; “it is no 
more than the price of another horse. It is a fine sport and a 
healthy one, and I don’t know that it is more dangerous than 
galloping about the country on horseback. I have told Marco 
to make all arrangements, and not to worry me about things. 
At the beginning of each holiday he will say how much he will 
require for provisions on board, and the payment of the wages 
of a man and a boy. I shall give him a cheque, and there 
will be an end of it as far as I am concerned. I shall be 
much more at my ease knowing that you are enjoying yourself 
on board than wondering what you will do to amuse yourself 
from day to day.” 

Thinking that all that was necessary had been said, Mr. 
Beveridge then opened a Greek book that lay as usual beside 
his plate, and speedily became absorbed in it. When he 
himself had finished, Horace slipped away. He knew that 
his father would be at least two htmrs over the meal, which he 
only turned to when Zaimes made a movement to attract his 
attention, everything being kept down by the fire, which was 
lit specially for that purpose, even in summer. 

“It is all settled, Marco; think of that! Won’t it be 
glorious? ” 

“ It will be very good, Horace. I shall like it almost as 


A GREEK STUDENT 


27 


much as you will. I love the sea, even this gray ugly sea of 
yours, which is so different from the blue of the Tpgean. I too 
mope a little sometimes when you are not at home, for though 
I have the kindest and best of masters, one longs sometimes 
for change. I told you your father would agree. It is just 
what I told him we should want. An open boat is no. use 
except when the weather is fine, and then one must always 
keep close to port in case the wind should drop, and when it 
comes calm you have to break your back with rowing. Oh, 
we will have fine sails together, and as you grow older we can 
go farther away, for she should be safe anywhere. When you 
become a man I daresay he will get for you something bigger, 
and then perhaps we can sail together to Greece, and perhaps 
the master will go with you, for he loves Greece as much as 
we do.” 

There was a fortnight of hard work. William Martyn was 
in command, and kept Horace at work as if he had been a 
young midshipman under his orders; while Marco turned his 
hand to everything, singing snatches of sailor songs he had 
sung as he fished when a boy, chattering in Greek to Horace, 
and in broken English to the two men. 

“You are going to be skipper, I hear,” William Martyn said 
to him one day. 

“ Going to skip! ” Marco repeated vaguely. “ I know not 
what you mean.” . 

“Going to be captain—padrone.” 

Marco shook his head. “No, sir. Can sail open boat 
good, but not fit to take charge of boat like this. Going to 
have man at Seaport, a good fisherman. He sailed a long 
time ip big ships. Man-of-war’s man. When war over, came 
back to fish. I shall look after young master, cook food for 
him, pull at rope, steer sometimes; but other man be captain 
and sail boat.” 

William Martyn nodded. “Quite right, Marco; these 
fishermen know the coast, and the weather, and the ports and 
creeks to run into. It is all very well in fine weather, but 


28 


IN GREEK WATERS 


when you get a blow, a craft like this wants a man who can 
handle her well.” 

Horace’s pride in the craft increased every day. As she lay 
weather-beaten and dismantled on the mud she had seemed to 
him larger but not superior in appearance to the fishing craft 
of Seaport, which were most of them boats of ten or twelve 
tons; but each day her appearance changed, and at the end 
of ten days—with all her rigging in place, her masts and spars 
scraped, her deck fairly white, and her sides glossy with black 
paint—she seemed to him a thing of perfect beauty. It was 
just t 1 ■ fortnight when the paint and varnish of the cabins 
were dry, the furniture in its place, and everything ready for 
sea. Horace’s v delight culminated when the anchor was got 
up, sail set on her, and William Martyn took the helm, as 
with a light wind she ran down through the craft in the har¬ 
bour for a trial trip. 

“She is a wonderfully hanu, little craft,” the mate said 
approvingly, as she began to rise and fall on the swell outside; 
“ the old captain knew what ht was doing when he laid down 
..m^lines. She is like a duck on the water. I have been out 
in hex 11 m big ships were putting their noses into it, and 
she never shipped a pailful of water. I can tell you, you are 
in luck, youngster. How are you going to take her round? ” 

“ I was going to write to-night for Tom Burdett—that is the 
man Marco spoke about—to come over by coach.” 

“I will tell you what I will do, youngster; I will take her 
over for you. I shall enjoy the trip. If you like we will start 
to-morrow morning.” 

“I should like that immensely,” Horace said; “we shall 
astonish them when we sail into the port.” 

“Very well, then, that is agreed; you had better get some 
stores on board; I mean provisions. Of course if the weather 
holds like this we should be there in the evening; but it is a 
good rule at sea never to trust the weather. Always have 
enough grub and water for a week on board; then, if you 
happen to be blown off shore, or anything of that sort, it is of 
no consequence.” 


A YACHT 


29 


CHAPTER II 

A YACHT 

1V/TARCO, who acted as banker and appeared to Horace to 
^ be provided with an unlimited amount of money, was 
busy all the evening getting crockery, cooking-utensils, knives 
and forks, table-cloths, towels, and other necessaries. 

“Why, it is like fitting out a house, Marco.” v 

“Well, it is a little floating house,” the Greek said; “it is 
much better to have your own things, and not to have to bor¬ 
row from the house every time.- Now we will get some pro¬ 
visions, two or three bottles of rum for bad weather, or when 
we have visitors on board, and then we shall be complete. 
Mr. Martyn said he would see t to the water. Now, we will go 
to bed soon, for we are to be'down at the wharf at six o’clock; 
and if we are not there in time you may be sure that you will 
get a rating.” 

“There is no fear of my being late, Marco. I don’t uink 
I shall sleep all night.” 

“Ah! we shall see. You have been on your feet since 
seven this morning. I shall have to pull you by youi^’ar to 
wake you in the morning.” 

This, however, was not necessary. The boy was fast asleep 
in five minutes after he had laid his head on, the pillow; he 
woke soon after daylight, dropped off to sleep several times, 
but turned out at five, opened the door of the Greek’s room, 
and shouted: 

“Now, then, Marco, time to get up; if you do Hof, it is I 
who will do the ear-pulling.” 

They were down at the wharf at a quarter to six.> As the 
clock struck the hour William Martyn came down. 

“Good-morning, youngster! you are before your time, I 
see. You wouldn’t be so ready to turn out after you had had 
a year or two on board ship. Well, it looks as if we are 


30 


IN GREEK WATERS 


going to have a grand day. There is a nice little breeze, and 
I fancy it will freshen a good bit later on. Now, then, tumble 
into the dinghy, I will take the sculls; the tide is running out 
strong, and you might run her into the yacht and damage the 
paint; that would be a nice beginning.” 

As soon as they were on board, the mate said: 

“Now, off with those shoes, youngster. You can go bare¬ 
foot if you like, or you can put on those slippers you bought; 
we have got the deck fairly white, and we must not spoil it. 
You should make that a rule: everyone who comes on board 
takes off his boots at once.” 

The Greek made the dinghy fast, and then took off his 
shoes and stockings. Horace put on the slippers, and the 
mate a pair of light shoes he had brought on board with him. 

“Now, then, off with the sail-covers; fold them up and put 
them down under the seat of the cockpit. Knot up the tyers 
loosely together, and put them there also. Never begin to 
hoist your sails till you have got the covers and tyers snugly 
packed away. Now, Marco, get number two jib out of the 
sail-locker. I don’t think we shall want number one to-day. 
Now, hook on the halliards. No; don’t hoist yet, run it out 
first by the outhaul to the end of the bowsprit. We won’t 
hoist it till we have got the mainmast and mizzen up. Now, 
Marco, you take the peak halliards, and I will take the main. 
Now, then, up she goes; ease off the sheet a bit. Horace, 
we must top the boom a bit; that is high enough. Marco, 
make fast; now up with the mizzen; that is right. Now, 
Horace, before you do anything else always look round, see 
that everything is right, the halliards properly coiled up and 
turned over so as to run freely, in case you want to lower or 
reef sail, the sheets ready to slacken out, the foresail and jib 
sheets brought aft on their proper sides. There is nothing in 
our way now; but when there are craft in the way, you want 
to have everything in perfect order, and ready to draw the 
moment the anchor is off the ground. Otherwise you might 
run foul of something before you got fairly off, and nothing 


A YACHT 


31 


can look more lubberly than that. Now you take the helm, 
and Marco and I will get up the anchor. The wind is nearly 
dead down the river; don’t touch the tiller till I tell you.” 

Horace stood by the helm till the mate said: 

“The chain is nearly up and down; now put the tiller 
gently to starboard.” 

As he spoke he ran up the jib, and as the boat’s head payed 
off, fastened the sheet to windward. 

“Now, Marco, round with the windlass; that is right, the 
anchor is clear now; up with it.” 

As he spoke he ran up the foresail. “Slack off the main 
sheets, lad, handsomely; that is right, let them go free; slack 
off the mizzen sheets.” 

The wind had caught the jib now, and, aided by the tide, 
brought the boat’s head sharply round. The jib and foresheets 
were hauled to leeward, and in less than a minute from the 
time the anchor had left the ground the boat was running 
down the river with her sheets well off before the wind. 

“Helm a-port a little, Horace, so as to give us plenty of 
room in passing that brig at anchor. That is enough. Steady! 
Now keep as you are. Marco, I will help you get the anchor 
on board, and then we will get up the topsail and set it.” 

In ten minutes the anchor was stowed, topsail set, and the 
ropes coiled down. Then a small triangular blue flag with the 
word “Surf ” was run up to the masthead. 

“Properly speaking, Horace, flags are not shown till eight 
o’clock in the morning; but we will make an exception this 
time. Gently with the tiller, lad; you are not steering a fish¬ 
ing-boat now; a touch is sufficient for this craft. Keep your 
eye on the flag, and see that it flies out straight ahead. That 
is the easiest thing to steer by when you are dead before the 
wind. There is more care required for that than for steering 
close-hauled, for a moment’s carelessness might bring the sail 
across with a jerk that would pretty well take the mast out of 
her. It is easy enough now in smooth water; but with a fol¬ 
lowing sea it needs a careful helmsman to keep a craft from 
yawing about.” 


32 


IN GREEK WATERS 


Marco had disappeared down the forecastle hatch as soon 
as he had finished coiling down the topsail halliard, and a 
wreath of smoke now came up through the stove-pipe. 

“That is good,” the mate said. “We shall have breakfast 
before long.” 

They ran three miles straight out, so as to get well clear of 
the land; then the sheets were hauled in, and the Surf s head 
pointed east, and lying down to her gunwale she sped along 
parallel with the shore. 

“We are going along a good seven knots through the 
water,” the mate said. “She has got just as much sail as 
she wants, though she would stand a good deal more wind, 
if there were any occasion to press her; but as a rule, Horace, 
always err on the right side; there is never any good in 
carrying too much sail. You can always make more sail if 
the wind drops, while if it rises it is not always easy to get it 
in. Give me the helm. Now go down to Marco and tell him 
to come up a few minutes before breakfast is ready. We will 
get the topsail off her before we sit down, and eat our break¬ 
fast comfortably. There is no fun in having your plate in your 
lap.” 

By half-past seven the topsail was stowed and breakfast on 
the table. Marco took the helm, while the mate and Horace 
went down to breakfast. Horace thought that it was the most 
delightful meal he had ever taken; and the mate said: 

“That Greek of yours is a first-rate cook, Horace. An 
admiral could not want to sit down to a better breakfast than 
this. There is not much here to remind me of a midship¬ 
man’s mess. ’" You would have had very different food from 
this, youngster, if you had had your wish and gone to sea. 
That father of yours must be a trump; I drink his health in 
coffee. If he ever gets a bigger craft, and wants a captain, I 
am his man if he will send your Greek on board as cook. 
Does he care for the sea himself? ” 

“ I think he used to like it. I have heard him talk about 
sailing among the Greek islands; but as long as I have known 


A YACHT 


33 


him he has never been away from home except for short runs 
up to London. He is always in his library.” 

“ Fancy a man who could afford to keep a big craft and sail 
about as he likes wasting his life over musty old books. It is 
a rum taste, youngster. I think I would rather row in a 
galley.” 

“ There are no such things as galleys now, are there ? ” 

“Oh, yes, there are in Italy; they have them still rowed by 
convicts, and I fancy the Spanish gun-boats are rowed by 
prisoners too. It is worse than a dog’s life, but for all that 
I would rather do it than be shut up all my life in a library. 
You seem to talk Greek well, youngster.” 

“Yes; Marco has always been with me since I was a child, 
and we have another Greek servant, his brother; and father 
generally talks Greek to me. His mother was a Greek lady, 
and that is what made him so fond of it at first. They say he 
is the best Greek scholar in England.” 

“I suppose it differs a lot from the Greek you learn at 
school?” 

“Yes, a lot. Still, of course, my knowing it helps me 
tremendously with my old Greek. I get on first-rate at that, 
but I am very bad at everything else.” 

“Well, now we will go up and give Marco a spell,” the 
mate said. Marco was relieved and went below. Horace 
took the helm; the mate lit a pipe and seated himself on the 
weather bulwark. “We shall be at Seaport before eleven if 
we go on like this,” he said. 

“Oh, do let us take a run out to sea, Mr. Martyn; it is no 
use our going in until four or five o’clock.” 

“Just as you like, lad; I am in no hurry, and it is really a 
glorious day for a sail. Put up the helm, I will see to the 
sheets.” 

As they got farther from the protection of the land the sea 
got up a bit, but the AW/went over it lightly, and except that 
an occasional splash of spray flew over her bow, her decks 
were perfectly dry. 


34 


IN GREEK WATERS 


ii! Have you heard of a ship yet, Mr. Martyn?” 

“Yes, I heard only yesterday of a berth as first-mate in a 
craft at Plymouth. The first-mate got hurt coming down 
channel, and a friend of my father’s, learning there was a 
vacancy, spoke to the owners. She belongs there, and I am 
to join the day after to-morrow. She is bound up the Medi¬ 
terranean. I shall be very glad to be off; I have had a dull 
time of it for the last four months except for this little job.” 

“I am afraid you won’t get any vehicle to take you back 
to-night,” Horace said. 

“No, I didn’t expect that; the coach in the morning will 
do very well. I have nothing to do but just to pack my kit, 
and shall go on by coach next morning. I was thinking of 
sleeping on board here, if you have no objection.” 

“ I am sure my father will be very glad to see you up at the 
house,” Horace said eagerly. 

“ Thank you, lad, but I shall be much more comfortable on 
board. Marco said he would get dinner at two, and there is 
sure to be plenty for me to make a cold supper of, and as 
there is rum in the locker I shall be as happy as a king. I 
can smoke my pipe as 1 like. If I were to go up with you I 
should be uncomfortable, for I have nothing but my sea-going 
togs. I should put your father out of his way, and he would 
put me out of mine. So I think, on all accounts, I had much 
better remain in good quarters now I have got them. How 
far is it to the place where I catch the coach? ” 

“About four miles. We will send the carriage to take you 
there.” 

“Thank you, I would much rather walk. I have nothing 
to carry but myself, and a four miles’ walk across the hills will 
be just the thing for me.” 

At four o’clock the Surf entered the little harbour of Sea¬ 
port; Horace was delighted with the surprise of the fishermen 
at the arrival of the pretty craft. 

“You are sure you won’t change your mind and come up 
with me to the house? ” 


A YACHT 


35 


“Quite certain, thank you, lad. Marco has put out every¬ 
thing I can possibly require. He offered to come down to 
get breakfast for me, but I prefer to manage that for myself, 
then I can have it at any time I fancy. I will lock up the 
cabin before I land. He will be there to take the key.” 

“ I shall come down with him, of course, Mr. Martyn. I 
can’t tell you how much I am obliged to you for what you 
have done for me, and I hope that some day we may have 
another sail together.” 

“ If I am at home any time when you may happen to put in 
at Exmouth I shall be glad to take a cruise with you, Horace.” 

As the lad and Marco went up the hill to the house, Horace, 
to his surprise, met his father coming down with Zaimes. 

“Well, Horace, so you have brought your yacht home. 
Zaimes routed me out from my work to come and look at her, 
and she really looks a very pretty little vessel.” 

“She is not little at all, father.” 

“Perhaps not in comparison, Horace; but did you and 
Marco bring her back by yourselves? ” 

“No, father; William Martyn, the officer who has seen to 
her fitting up, and who recommended her, you know, said he 
would come with us. So, of course, he has been in command, 
and Marco and I have been the crew. He has been teaching 
me lots of things, just the same, he says, as if I had been a 
newly joined midshipman.” 

“But where is he now, Horace?” 

“ He is on board. He is going home by the coach to-mor¬ 
row. I said that I was sure you would be glad if he would 
come up to the house; but he said he should feel more com¬ 
fortable on board. Were you coming down to look at her, 
father? ” 

“Yes, Horace, I was. It is quite a wonderful event my 
being outside the grounds, isn’t it?” 

“ It is indeed, father. I am so glad you are coming down. 
I am sure you will like her, and then, perhaps, you will come 
sailing sometimes; I do think, father, that you would enjoy 
such a sail as we had to-day, it was splendid.” 


36 


IN GREEK WATERS 


“Well, we will see about it, Horace. Now I have once 
come out I may do so again; I am not sure that a good blow 
might not clear my brain sometimes.” 

There was quite an excitement in the village when Mr. 
Beveridge was seen coming down. Occasionally during his 
wife’s lifetime he had come down with her to look into ques¬ 
tions of repairs or erection of new cottages in lieu of old ones, 
but since that time he had never entered the village. Per¬ 
sonally his tenants did not suffer from the cessation of his 
visits, for his steward had the strictest injunctions to deal in 
all respects liberally with them, to execute all necessary re¬ 
pairs, to accede to any reasonable request; while in case of 
illness or misfortune, such as the loss of a boat or nets, the 
rent was always remitted. That Mr. Beveridge was to a cer¬ 
tain extent mad to shut himself up as he did the villagers 
firmly believed, but they admitted that no better landlord was 
to be found in all that part of the country. 

Mrs. Beveridge had been greatly liked, and the people were 
pleased at Horace being down so much among them; but it 
was rather a sore subject that their landlord himself held so 
entirely aloof from them. Men touched their hats, the women 
curtsied as he came down the street, looking almost with pity 
at the man who, in their opinion, so terribly wasted his life 
and cut himself off from the enjoyments of his position. 

Mr. Beveridge returned their salutes kindly. He was scarce 
conscious of the time that had passed since he was last in the 
village; the years had gone by altogether unmarked save by 
the growth of Horace, and by the completion of so many 
works. 

“I suppose you know most of their names, Horace?” 

“All of them, I think, father.” 

“That is right, boy. A landlord ought to know all his 
tenants. I wish I could find time to go about among them a 
little more, but I think they have everything they want as far 
as I can do for them; still, I ought to come. In your mother’s 
time I did come sometimes. I must try to do it in future. 


A YACHT 


37 


Zaimes, you must see that I do this once a fortnight. I 
authorize you to bring me my hat and coat after lunch and 
say to me firmly, ‘ This is your afternoon for going out. ’ ” 

“Very well, sir,” the Greek said. “I will tell you; and I 
hope you will not say, as you always do to me when I beg you 
to go out: ‘I must put it off for another day, Zaimes, I have 
some work that must be done.’ ” 

“ I will try not to, Zaimes, I will indeed. I think this is a 
duty. You remind me of that, will you? ” 

By this time they had reached the little port, where a num¬ 
ber of the fishermen were still lounging discussing the Surf\ 
which was lying the picture of neatness and good order among 
the fishing-boats, with every rope in its place, the sails in 
their snow-white covers, and presenting the strongest contrast 
to the craft around her. 

“She is really a very pretty little yacht,” Mr. Beveridge 
said with more animation than Horace ever remembered to 
have heard him speak with. “She does great credit to your 
choice, Marco, and I should think she is a good sea-boat. 
Why, Zaimes, this almost seems to take one back to the old 
time. She is about the size of the felucca we used to cruise 
about in; it is a long time back, nearly eighteen years, and 
yet it seems but yesterday.” 

“There is no reason why you should not sail again, master; 
even I long to have my foot pn the planks. One never loses 
one’s love of the sea.” 

“I am getting to be an old man now, Zaimes.” 

“No one would say so but yourself, master; you are but 
forty-three. Sometimes, after being shut up for days, you look 
old—who would not when the sun never shines on them 
—but now you look young, much younger than you are.” 

A stranger indeed would have had difficulty in guessing Mr. 
Beveridge’s age. His forehead was broad, his skin delicate 
and almost colourless, his light-brown hair was already of a 
silvery shade, his face clean shaven, his hands white and 
thin. His eyes were generally soft and dreamy, but at the 


38 


IN GREEK WATERS 


present moment they were bright and alert. His figure was 
scarcely that of a student, for the frame was large, and there 
was at present none of the stoop habitual to those who spend 
their lives over books; and now that he was roused, he carried 
himself exceptionally upright, and a close observer might have 
taken him for a vigorous man who had but lately recovered 
from an attack of severe illness. 

“We shall see, Zaimes, we shall see,” he said; “let us go 
on board. You had better hail her, Horace.” 

“ Surf ahoy! ” Horace shouted, imitating as well as he could 
William Martyn’s usual hail. A minute later the mate’s head 
appeared above the companion. “ My father is coming on 
board, Mr. Martyn. Will you please bring the dinghy ashore.” 
The mate hauled up the dinghy, got into it, and in a few 
strokes was alongside the quay. 

Mr. Beveridge descended the steps first. “ I am glad to 
meet you, Mr. Martyn, and to thank you for the kindness you 
have shown my son in finding this craft for him and seeing to 
its being fitted out.” 

“It has been an amusement, sir,” the mate said. “I was 
knocking about Exmouth with nothing to do, and it was 
pleasant to be at work on something.” 

“Get in, Horace,” Mr. Beveridge said, “the dinghy won’t 
carry us all. You can bring it back again for the others.” 

The party stayed for half an hour on board. Mr. Bever¬ 
idge was warm in his approval of the arrangements. 

“This is a snug cabin indeed,” he said. “I had no idea 
that such a small craft could have had such good accommoda¬ 
tion. One could wish for nothing better except for a little 
more head-room, but after all that is of no great consequence, 
one does not want to walk about below. It is a place to eat 
and to sleep in, or, if it is wet, to read in. I really wonder 
I never thought of having a sailing-boat before. I shall cer¬ 
tainly take a sail with you sometimes, Horace.” 

“I am very glad of that, father, it would be very jolly hav¬ 
ing you out. I don’t see much of you, you know, and I do 
think it would do you good.” 


A YACHT 


39 


William Martyn was not allowed to carry out his intention 
of staying on board, nor did he resist very earnestly Mr. 
Beveridge’s pressing invitation. His host differed widely 
from his preconceived notions of him, and he saw that he 
need not be afraid of ceremony. 

“You can smoke your pipe, you know, in the library after 
dinner, Mr. Martyn. I have no objection whatever to smoke; 
indeed, I used to smoke myself when I was in Greece as a 
young man—everyone did so there, and I got to like it, 
though I gave it up afterwards. Why did I give it up, Zaimes? ” 

“I think you gave it up, master, because you always let 
your cigar out after smoking two or three whiffs, and never 
thought of it again for the rest of the day.” 

“ Perhaps that was it; at any rate your smoking will in no 
way incommode me, so I will take no denial.” 

Accordingly the cabins were locked up, and William Martyn 
went up with the others to the house and there spent a very 
pleasant evening. He had in the course of his service sailed 
for some time in Greek waters, and there was consequently 
much to talk about which interested both himself and his host. 

“I love Greece,” Mr. Beveridge said. “Had it not been 
that she lies dead under the tyranny of the Turks I doubt if I 
should not have settled there altogether.” 

“ I think you would have got tired of it, sir,” the mate said. 
“There is nothing to be said against the country or the 
islands, except that there are precious few good harbours 
among them; but I can’t say I took to the people.” 

“They have their faults,” Mr. Beveridge admitted, “but I 
think they are the faults of their position more than of their 
natural character. Slaves are seldom trustworthy, and I own 
that they are not as a rule to be relied upon. Having no 
honourable career open to them, the upper classes think of 
nothing but money; they are selfish, greedy, and corrupt; but 
I believe in the bulk of the people.” 

As William Martyn had no belief whatever in any section 
of the Greeks he held his tongue. 


40 


IN GREEK WATERS 


“Greece will rise one of these days,” Mr. Beveridge went 
on, “ and when she does she will astonish Europe. The old 
spirit still lives among the descendants of Leonidas and Mil- 
tiades.” 

“ I should be sorry to be one of the Turks who fell into 
their hands,” William Martyn said gravely as he thought of 
the many instances in his own experiences of the murders of 
sailors on leave ashore. 

“It is probable that there will be sad scenes of bloodshed,” 
Mr. Beveridge agreed; “that is only to be expected when you 
have a race of men of a naturally impetuous and passionate 
character enslaved by a people alien in race and in religion. 
Yes, I fear it will be so at the commencement, but that will 
be all altered when they become disciplined soldiers. Do 
you not think so?” he asked, as the sailor remained silent. 

“ I have great doubts whether they will ever submit to dis¬ 
cipline,” he said bluntly. “Their idea of fighting for cen¬ 
turies has been simply to shoot down an enemy from behind 
the shelter of rocks. I would as lief undertake to discipline 
an army of Malays, who, in a good many respects, especially 
in the handiness with which they use their knives, are a good 
deal like the Greeks.” 

“There is one broad distinction,” Mr. Beveridge said: “the 
Malays have no past, the Greeks have never lost the remem¬ 
brance of their ancient glory. They have a high standard to 
act up to; they reverence the names of the great men of old 
as if they had died but yesterday. With them it would be a 
resurrection, accomplished, no doubt, after vast pains and 
many troubles, the more so since the Greeks are a composite 
people among whom the descendants of the veritable Greek 
of old are in a great minority. The majority are of Albanian 
and Suliot blood, races which even the Romans found untam¬ 
able. When the struggle begins I fear that this section of the 
race will display the savagery of their nature; but the fighting 
over, the intellectual portion will, I doubt not, regain their 
proper ascendency, and Greece will become the Greece of 
old.” 


A YACHT 


41 


William Martyn was wise enough not to pursue the subject. 
He had a deep scar from the shoulder to the elbow of his right 
arm, and another on the left shoulder, both reminiscences of 
an attack that had been made upon him by half a dozen ruf¬ 
fians one night in the streets of Athens, and in his private 
opinion the entire extirpation of the Greek race would be no 
loss to the world in general. 

“I am very sorry you have to leave to-morrow morning,” 
Mr. Beveridge said presently. “ I should have been very glad 
if you could have stayed with us for a few days. It is some 
years since I had a visitor here, and I can assure you that I am 
surprised at the pleasure it gives me. However, I hope that 
whenever you happen to be at Exmouth you will run over and 
see us, and if at any time I can be of the slightest service to 
you I shall be really pleased.” 

The next morning William Martyn, still refusing the offer 
of a conveyance, walked across the hills to meet the coach, 
and as soon as he had started Horace went down to the yacht. 
Marco had gone down into the village early, had seen Tom 
Burdett, and in his master’s name arranged for him to take 
charge of the Surf\ and to engage a lad to sail with him. 
When Horace reached the wharf Tom was already on board 
with his nephew, Dick, a lad of seventeen or eighteen, who 
at once brought the dinghy ashore at Horace’s hail. 

“Well, Dick, so you are going with us? ” 

“Ay, Master Horace, I am shipped as crew. She be a 
beauty. That cabin is a wonderful lot better than the fo’castle 
of a fishing-lugger. She is something like a craft to go a 
sailing in.” 

“Good morning, Tom Burdett,” Horace said as the boat 
came alongside the yacht; “or I ought to say Captain Bur¬ 
dett.” 

“No, no,” the sailor laughed; “I have been too long 
aboard big craft to go a captaining. I don’t so much mind 
being called a skipper, cos a master of any sort of craft may 
be called skipper; but I ain’t going to be called captain. 


42 


IN GREEK WATERS 


Now, Dick, run that flag up to the mast-head. That is yacht¬ 
ing fashion, you know, Master Horace, to run the burgee up 
when the owner comes on board. We ain’t got a burgee, 
seeing as we don’t belong to a yacht-club; but the flag with 
the name does service for it at present.” 

“But I am not the owner, Tom, that is nonsense. My 
father got it to please me, and very good of him it was; but 
it is nonsense to call the boat mine.” 

“Them’s the orders I got from your Greek chap down 
below, Mr. Horace. Says he, ‘Master says as how Mr. Hor¬ 
ace is to be regarded as owner of this ’ere craft whenever he 
is aboard; ’ so there you are, you see. There ain’t nothing to 
be said against that.” 

“Well, it is very jolly, isn’t it, Tom?” 

“ It suits me first-rate, sir. I feel for all the world as if we 
had just captured a little prize, and they had put a young 
midshipmite in command and sent me along with him just to 
keep him straight; that is how I feel about it.” 

“ What sort of weather do you think we are going to have 
to-day, Tom?” 

“ I think the wind is going to shift, sir, and perhaps there 
will be more of it. It has gone round four points to the east 
since I -turned out before sunrise.” 

“And where do you think we had better go to-day, Tom? ” 

“Well, as the wind is now it would be first-rate for a run to 
Dartmouth.”- 

“Yes, but we should have a dead-beat back, Tom; we 
should never get back before dark.” 

“No sir, but that Greek chap tells me as your father said 
as how there were no occasion to be back to-night, if so be as 
you liked to make a cruise of it.” 

“Did he say that? That is capital. Then let us go to 
Dartmouth; to-morrow we can start as early as we like so as 
to get back here.” 

I don t reckon we shall have to beat back. According to 
my notion the wind will be somewhere round to the south by 


v 


A YACHT 


43 


to-morrow morning; that will suit us nicely. Now then, sir, 
we will see about getting sail on her.” 

As soon as they began to throw the sail-covers off, Marco 
came on deck and lent a hand, and in the course of three 
minutes the sails were up, the mooring slipped, and the Surf 
was gliding past the end of the jetty. 

“That was done in pretty good style, sir,” Tom Burdett 
said as he took up his station by the side of Horace, who was 
at the tiller. “I reckon when we have had a week’s practice 
together we shall get up sail as smartly as a man-of-war cap¬ 
tain would want to see. I do like to see things done smart if 
it is only on a little craft like this, and with three of us we 
ought to get all her lower sail on her in no time. That Greek 
chap knows what he is about. Of course he has often been 
out with you in the fishing-boats, but there has never been any 
call for him to lend a hand there, and I was quite surprised 
just now when he turned to at it. I only reckoned on Dick 
and myself, and put the Greek down as steward and cook.” 

“ He used to work in a fishing-boat when he was a boy, 
Tom.” 

“ Ah, that accounts for it! They are smart sailors, some of 
them Greeks, in their own craft, though I never reckoned they 
were any good in a square-rigged ship; but in those feluccas 
of theirs they ain’t easy to be beaten in anything like fine 
weather. But they ain’t dependable, none of those Medi¬ 
terranean chaps are, whether they are Greeks or Italians or 
Spaniards, when it comes on to blow really hard, and there 
is land under your lee, and no port to run to. When it comes 
to a squeak like that they lose their nerve and begin to pray 
to the saints, and wring their hands, and jabber like a lot of 
children. They don’t seem to have no sort of backbone about 
them. But in fine weather I allow they handle their craft as 
well as they could be handled. Mind your helm, sir; you 
must always keep your attention to that, no matter what is 
being said.” 

“Are you going to get up the topsail, Tom? ” 


44 


IN GREEK WATERS 


“Not at present, sir; with this wind there will be more sea 
on as we get further out, and I don’t know the craft yet; I 
want to see what her ways are afore we try her. She looks to 
me as if she would be stiff under canvas; but running as we 
are we can’t judge much about that, and you have always got 
to be careful with these light-draft craft. When we get to 
know her we shall be able to calculate what she will carry in 
all weathers; but there is no hurry about that. I have seen 
spars carried away afore now, from young commanders crack¬ 
ing on sail on craft they knew nothing about. This boat can 
run, there is no mistake about that. Look at that fishing-boat 
ahead of us; that is Jasper Hill’s Kitty; she went out ten 
minutes afore you came down. We are overhauling her hand 
over hand, and she is reckoned one of the fastest craft in Sea¬ 
port. But then, this craft is bound to run fast with her fine 
lines and shallow draft; we must wait to see how she will do 
when there is lots of wind.” 

In a couple of hours Horace was glad to hand over the tiller 
to the skipper as the sea had got up a good deal, and the 
Surf yawed so much before the following waves that it needed 
more skill than he possessed to keep her straight. 

“Fetch the compass up, Dick,” the skipper said; “we are 
dropping the land fast. Now get the mizzen off her, she will 
steer easier without it, and it isn’t doing her much good. Do 
you begin to feel queer at all, Mr. Horace? ” 

“Not a bit,” the boy laughed. “Why, you don’t suppose, 
after rolling about in those fishing-boats when they are hang¬ 
ing to their nets, that one would feel this easy motion.” 

“No; you would think not, but it don’t always follow. I 
have seen a man, who had been accustomed to knock about 
all his life in small craft, as sick as a dog on board a frigate, 
and I have seen the first lieutenant of a man-of-war knocked 
right over while lying off a bar on boat service. One gets 
accustomed to one sort of motion, and when you get another 
quite different it seems to take your innards all aback.” 

The run to Dartmouth was quickly made, and to Horace’s 
delight they passed several large ships on their way. 


A YACHT 




“Yes, she is going well,” Tom Burdett said when he 
expressed his satisfaction; “but if the wind was to get up a 
bit more it would be just the other way. We have got quite 
as much as we want, while they could stand a good bit more. 
A small craft will generally hold her own in a light wind, 
because why, she carries more sail in proportion to her ton¬ 
nage. When the big ship has got as much as she can do with, 
the little one has to reef down and half her sails are taken off 
her. Another thing is, the waves knock the way out of a small 
craft, while the weight of a big one takes her through them 
without feeling it. Still I don’t say the boat ain’t doing well, 
for she is first-rate, and we shall make a very quick passage to 
port.” 

Running up the pretty river, they rounded to, head to wind, 
dropped the anchor a short distance from a ship of war, and 
lowered and stowed their sails smartly. Then Horace went 
below to dinner. It had been ready for some little time, but 
he had not liked leaving the deck, for rolling, as she some¬ 
times did, it would have been impossible to eat comfortably. 
As soon as he dined, the others took their meal in the fo’- 
castle, Marco having insisted on waiting on him while at his 
dinner. When they had finished, Marco and Dick rowed 
Horace ashore. The lad took the boat back to the yacht, 
while the other two strolled about the town for a couple of 
hours, and then went off again. 

The next day the Surf fully satisfied her skipper as to her 
weatherly qualities. The wind was, as he had predicted, 
nearly south-east, and there was a good deal of sea on. 
Before getting up anchor, the topmast was lowered, two reefs 
put in the main-sail and one in the mizzen, and a small jib 
substituted for that carried on the previous day. Showers of 
spray fell on the deck as they put out from the mouth of the 
river; but once fairly away she took the waves easily, and 
though sometimes a few buckets of water tumbled over her 
bows and swashed along the lee channels, nothing like a green 
sea came on board. Tom Burdett was delighted with her. 


46 


IN GREEK WATERS 


“She is a beauty and no mistake,” he said enthusiastically. 
“There is many a big ship will be making bad weather of it 
to-day; she goes over it like a duck. After this, Mr. Horace, 
I sha’n’t mind what weather I am out in her. I would not 
have believed a craft her size would have behaved so well in a 
tumble like this. You see this is more trying for her than a 
big sea would be. She would take it easier if the waves were 
longer, and she had more time to take them one after the 
other. That is why you hear of boats living in a sea that has 
beaten the life out of a ship. A long craft does not feel a 
short choppy sea that a small one would be putting her head 
into every wave; but in a long sea the little one has the advan¬ 
tage. What do you think of her, sir?” 

“She seems to me to heel over a long way, Tom.” 

“Yes, she is well over; but you see, even in the puffs she 
doesn’t go any further. Every vessel has got what you may 
call her bearing. It mayn’t take much to get her over to that; 
but when she is there it takes a wonderful lot to bring her any 
further. You see there is a lot of sail we could take off her 
yet, if the wind were to freshen. We could get in another 
reef in the main-sail, and stow her mizzen and foresail alto¬ 
gether. She would stand pretty nigh a hurricane with that 
canvas.” 

It was four o’clock in the afternoon before the Surf entered 
the harbour. Horace was drenched with spray, and felt almost 
worn out after the struggle with the wind and waves; when he 
landed his knees were strangely weak, but he felt an immense 
satisfaction with the trip, and believed implicitly Tom Bur- 
dett’s assertion that the yacht could stand any weather. 


THE WRECK 


47 


CHAPTER III 

THE WRECK 

'T'HOSE were glorious holidays for Horace Beveridge. He 
was seldom at home; sometimes two of his cousins, the 
Hendons, accompanied him in his trips, and they were away 
for three or four days at a time. Three times Mr. Beveridge 
with Zaimes went out for a day’s sail, and Horace was pleased 
to see that his father really enjoyed it, talking but little, but 
sitting among some cushions Zaimes arranged for him astern, 
and basking in the bright sun and fresh air. That he did 
enjoy it was evident from the fact that, instead of having the 
yacht laid up at the end of the holidays, Mr. Beveridge de¬ 
cided to keep her afloat, and retained Tom Burdett’s services 
permanently. 

“ Do you think, Tom, we shall get any sailing in the winter 
holidays? ” 

“We are sure to, sir, if your father has not laid her up by 
that time. There are plenty of days on this coast when the 
sailing is as pleasant in winter as it is in summer. The har¬ 
bour is a safe one though it is so small, and I don’t see any 
reason why she shouldn’t be kept afloat. Of course we shall 
have to put a stove in the cabin to make it snug; but with 
that, a good thick pea-jacket, warm gloves, and high boots, 
you would be as right as a nail.” 

And so at Christmas and through the next summer holidays 
Horace enjoyed almost constant sailing. He was now thor¬ 
oughly at home in the boat, could steer without the super¬ 
vision of the skipper, and was as handy with the ropes as Dick 
himself. 

“This is the best job I ever fell into, Mr. Horace,” Tom 
Burdett said at the end of the second summer. “Your father 
pays liberal; and as for grub, when that Greek is on board a 
post-captain could not want better. It is wonderful how that 


48 


IN GREEK WATERS 


chap does cook, and he seems downright to like it. Then you 
see I have got a first-rate crew. Dick is as good as a man 
now; I will say for the Greek, he is a good sailor as well as a 
good cook; and then you see you have got a deal bigger and 
stronger than you were a year ago, and are just as handy either 
at the tiller or the sheets as a man would be, so we are regular 
strong-handed, and that makes a wonderful difference in the 
comfort on a craft.” 

That summer they sailed up to Portsmouth, and cruised for 
a week inside the Isle of Wight, and as Horace had one of 
his school-fellows spending the holidays with him, he enjoyed 
himself to the fullest of his capacity. During the holidays 
Horace did not see much of his father, who, quite content that 
the boy was enjoying himself, and gaining health and strength, 
went on in his own way, and only once went out with him 
during his stay at home, although, as Marco told him, he 
generally went out once a week at other times. 

The first morning after his return, at the following Christ¬ 
mas, Horace did not as usual get up as soon as it was light. 
The rattle of the window and the howl of the wind outside 
sufficed to tell him that there would be no sailing that day. 
Being in no hurry to move, he sat over breakfast longer than 
usual, talking to Zaimes of what had happened at home and 
in the village since he last went away. His father was absent, 
having gone up to town a week before, and Horace had, on 
his arrival, found a letter from him, saying that he was sorry 
not to be there for his return, but that he found he could not 
get through the work on which he was engaged for another two 
days; he should, however, be down at any rate by Christmas- 
eve. 

After breakfast Horace went out and looked over the sea. 
The wind was almost dead on shore, blowing in such violent 
gusts that he could scarce keep his feet. The sky was a dull 
lead colour, the low clouds hurrying past overhead. The sea 
was covered with white breakers, and the roar of the surf, as 
it broke on the shore, could be heard even above the noise of 


THE WRECK 


49 


the wind. Putting on his pea-jacket and high boots, he went 
down to the port. As it had been specially constructed as a 
shelter against south-westerly winds, with the western pier 
overlapping the other, the sea did not make a direct sweep 
into it; but the craft inside were all rolling heavily in the swell. 

“How are you, Tom? It is a wild day, isn’t it? ” 

“Don’t want to see a worse, sir. Glad to see you back 
again, Mr. Horace. Quite well, I hope?” 

“ First-rate, Tom. It is a nuisance this gale the first day of 
coming home. I have been looking forward to a sail. I am 
afraid there is no chance of one to-day?” 

“ Well, sir, I should say they would take us and send us all 
to the loonatic asylum at Exeter if they saw us getting ready 
to go out. Just look at the sea coming over the west pier. It 
has carried away a bit of that stone wall at the end.” 

“Yes. I didn’t really think of going out, Tom, though I 
suppose if we had been caught out in it we should have man¬ 
aged somehow.” 

“We should have done our best, in course,” the sailor 
said, “and I have that belief in the boat that I think she 
might weather it; but I would not take six months’ pay to be 
out a quarter of an hour.” 

“ What would you do, Tom, if you were caught in a gale like 
this? ” 

“If there weren’t land under our lee I should lay to, sir, 
under the storm-jib and a try-sail. Maybe I would unship the 
main-sail with the boom and gaff, get the top-mast on deck 
and lash that to them; then make a bridle with a strong rope, 
launch it overboard, lower all sail, and ride to that; that 
would keep us nearer head on to the sea than we could lie 
under any sail. That is what they call a floating anchor. I 
never heard of a ship being hove-to that way; but I was out 
on boat service in the Indian Ocean when we were caught in 
a heavy blow, -and the lieutenant who was in charge made us 
lash the mast and sails and oars together and heave them 
overboard, and we rode to them right through the gale. We 


50 


IN GREEK WATERS 


had to bale a bit occasionally, but there was never any danger, 
and I don’t think we should have lived through it any other 
way. I made a note of it at the time, and if ever I am caught 
in the same way again that is what I shall do, and what would 
be good for a boat would be good for a craft like the Su?f.” 

This conversation was carried on with some difficulty, al¬ 
though they were standing under the lee of the wall of a cottage. 

“She rolls about heavily, Tom.” 

“ She does that, sir. It is lucky we have got our moorings 
in the middle of the harbour, and none of the fishing-boats 
are near enough to interfere with her. You see most of them 
have got their sails and nets rolled up as fenders, but in spite 
of that they have been ripping and tearing each other shock¬ 
ing. There will be jobs for the carpenter for some time to 
come. Five or six of them have torn away their bulwarks 
already.” 

After waiting down by the port for an hour Horace returned 
to the house. When luncheon was over he was just about to 
start again for the port, when Marco said to him: 

“Dick has just been in, sir. There is going to be a wreck. 
There are a lot of fishermen gathered on the cliff half a mile 
away to the right. They say there is a ship that will come 
ashore somewhere along there.” 

“Come on, then, Marco. Did you hear whether they 
thought that anything could be done? ” 

“ I did not hear anything about it. I don’t think they know 
where she will go ashore yet.” 

In a few minutes they reached the group of fishermen stand¬ 
ing on the cliff. It was a headland beyond which the land 
fell away, forming a bay some three miles across. A large 
barque was tos be seen some two miles off shore. She was 
wallowing heavily in the seas, and each wave seemed to smother 
her in spray. Tom Burdett was among the group, and Horace 
went up to him at once. 

“What’s to prevent her from beating off, Tom? She ought 
to be able to work out without difficulty.” 


THE WRECK 


51 


“So she would at ordinary times,” the skipper said; “but 
she is evidently a heavy sailer and deep laden. She could do 
it now if they could put more sail on her, but I expect her 
canvas is all old. You see her topsails are all in ribbons. 
Each of them seas heaves her bodily to leeward. She is a 
doomed ship, sir, there ain’t no sort of doubt about that; the 
question is, Where is she coming ashore? ” 

“Will it make much difference, Tom?” 

“Well, it might make a difference if her master knew the 
coast. The best thing he could do would be to get her round 
and run straight in for this point. The water is deeper here 
than it is in the bay, and she would get nearer ashore before 
she struck, and we might save a few of them if they lashed 
themselves to spars and hej^fcoops and such like. Deep as 
she is she would strike half a mile out if she went straight up 
the bay. The tide is nearly dead low, and in that case not a 
man will get ashore through that line of breakers. Then, 
again, she might strike near Ram’s Head over there, which is 
like enough if she holds on as she is doing at present. The 
Head runs a long way out under water, and it is shallower 
half a mile out than it is nearer the point. There is a clump 
of rocks there.” 

“I don’t remember anything about them, Tom, and we 
have sailed along there a score of times.” 

“No, sir, we don’t take no account of tliem in small craft, 
and there is a fathom and a half of water over them even in 
spring-tides. Springs are on now, and there ain’t much above 
nine foot just now; and that craft draws two fathom and a 
half or thereabouts, over twelve foot anyhow. But it don’t 
make much difference; wherever she strikes she will go to 
pieces in this sea in a few minutes.” 

“Surely there is something to be done, Tom? ” 

“ Some of us are just going down to get ropes and go along 
the shore, Mr. Horace; but Lor’ bless you, one just does it for 
the sake of doing something. One knows well enough that it 
ain’t likely we shall get a chance of saving a soul.” 


52 


IN GREEK WATERS 


“ But couldn’t some of the boats go out, Tom ? There would 
be plenty of water for them where she strikes.” 

“The fishermen have been talking about it, sir; but they 
are all of one opinion; the sea is altogether too heavy for 
them.” 

“But the Surf could go, couldn’t she, Tom? You have 
always said she could stand any sea.” 

“ Any reasonable sort of sea, Mr. Horace, but this is a down¬ 
right onreasonable sort of sea for a craft of her size, and it is 
a deal worse near shore where the water begins to shallow than 
it would be out in the channel.” 

But though Tom Burdett spoke strongly, Horace noticed 
that his tone was not so decided as when he said that the fish¬ 
ing-boats could not go out. 

“ Look here, Tom,” he said, “ I suppose there must be thirty 
hands on board that ship. We can’t see them drowned 
without making a try to save them. We have got the best 
boat here on the coast. We have been out in some bad 
weather in her, and she has always behaved splendidly. I 
vote we try. She can fetch out between the piers all right 
from where she is moored; and if, when we get fairly out, we 
find it is altogether too much for her, we could put back 
again.” 

Tom made no answer. He was standing looking at the ship. 
He had been already turning it over in his mind whether it 
would not be possible for the Surf to put out. He had him¬ 
self an immense faith in her sea-going qualities, and believed 
that she might be able to stand even this sea. 

“But you wouldn’t be thinking of going in her, Mr. 
Horace? ” he said doubtfully at last. 

“Of course I should,” the lad said indignantly. “You 
don’t suppose that I would let the Surf go out if I were afraid 
to go in her myself.” 

“ Your father would never agree to that if he were at home, 
sir.” 

“Yes, he would,” Horace said. “I am sure my father 



MR 


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imi 






MM 






'0W/ 


A RESCUE 


UO R AC E S U GGEST S 























































THE WRECK 


53 


would say that if the Surf went out I ought to go in her, and 
that it would be cowardly to let other people do what one is 
afraid to do one’s self. Besides, I can swim better than either 
you or Dick, and should have more chance of getting ashore 
if she went down; but I don’t think she would go down. I 
am nearly sixteen now; and as my father isn’t here I shall 
have my own way. If you say that you think there is no 
chance of the Surf getting out to her there is an end of it; 
but if you say that you think she could live through it, we 
will go.” 

“I think she might do it, Mr. Horace; I have been a say¬ 
ing so to the others. They all say that it would be just mad¬ 
ness, but then they don’t know the craft as I do.” 

“Well, look here, Tom, I will put it this way: if the storm 
had been yesterday, and my father and I had both been away, 
wouldn’t you have taken her out? ” 

“ Well, sir, I should; I can’t say the contrary. I have always 
said that the boat could go anywhere, and I believe she could, 
and I ain’t going to back down now from my opinion; but I 
say as it ain’t right for you to go.” 

“That is my business,” Horace said. “Marco, I am going 
out in the Surf to try to save some of the men on board that 
ship. Are you disposed to come too? ” 

“I will go if you go,” the Greek said slowly; “but I don’t 
know what your father would say.” 

“ He would say, if there was a chance of saving life it ought 
to be tried, Marco. Of course there is some danger in it, 
but Tom thinks she can do it, and so do I. We can’t stand 
here and see thirty men drowned without making an effort 
to save them. I have quite made up my mind to go.” 

“Very well, sir, then I will go.” 

Horace went back to Tom Burdett, who was talking with 
Dick apart from the rest. 

“We will take a couple of extra hands if we can get them,” 
the skipper said. “We shall want to be strong-handed.” 

He went to the group of fishermen and said: 


54 


IN GREEK WATERS 


“We are going out in the Surf to see if we can lend a hand 
to bring some of those poor fellows ashore. Young Mr. 
Beveridge is coming, but we want a couple more hands. Who 
will go with us? ” 

There was silence for a minute, and then a young fisherman 
said: 

“ I will go, Tom. My brother Nat is big enough to take 
my place in the boat if I don’t come back again. I am will¬ 
ing to try it with you, though I doubt if the yacht will get 
twice her own length beyond the pier.” 

“And I will go with you, Tom,” an older man said. “If 
my son Dick is going, I don’t see why I should hang back.” 

“That will do, then, that makes up our crew. Now we had 
best be starting at once. That barque will be ashore in another 
hour, and she will go to pieces pretty near as soon as she 
strikes. So if we are going to do anything, there ain’t no 
time to be lost. The rest of you had better go along with 
stout ropes as you was talking of just now; that will give us a 
bit of a chance if things go wrong.” 

The six hurried along the cliff and then down to the port, 
followed by the whole of the fishermen. A couple of trips 
with the dinghy took them on board. 

“Now, then,” Tom Burdett said to Dick’s father, “we will 
get the fore-sail out and rig it as a try-sail. Dick, you cut the 
lashings and get the main-sail off the hoops. We will leave it 
and the spars here; do you lend him a hand, Jack Thomp¬ 
son.” 

In five minutes the main-sail with its boom and gaff was 
taken off the mast and tied together. A rope was attached to 
them and the end flung ashore, where they were at once hauled 
in by the fishermen, who crowded the wharf, every soul in the 
village having come down at the news that the Surf was going 
out. By this time holes had been made along the leach of 
the sail, and by these it was lashed to the mast-hoops. The 
top-mast was sent down to the deck, launched overboard, and 
hauled ashore; the mizzen was closely reefed, but not hoisted. 


THE WRECK 


“We will see how she does without it,” Tom said; “she 
may like it and she may not. Now, up with the try-sail and 
jib, and stand by to cast off the moorings as she gets weigh 
on her; I will take the tiller. Marco, do you and Mr. Hor¬ 
ace stand by the mizzen-halliards ready to hoist if I tell you.” 

As the Surf began to move through the water a loud cheer 
broke from the crowd on shore, followed by a dead silence. 
She moved but slowly as she was under the lee of the west 
pier. 

“Ben, do you and the other two kick out the lower plank of 
the bulwark,” Tom Burdett said; “we shall want to get rid of 
the water as fast as it comes on board.” 

The three men with their heavy sea-boots knocked out the 
plank with a few kicks. 

“Now, the one on the other side,” Tom said; and this was 
done just as they reached the entrance between the piers. 
She was gathering way fast now. 

“Ease off that jib-sheet, Dick,” the skipper cried. “Stand 
by to haul it in as soon as the wind catches the try-sail.” 

Tom put down the helm as he reached the end of the pier, 
but a great wave caught her head and swept her half round. 
A moment later the wind in its full force struck the try-sail 
and she heeled far over with the blow. 

“Up with the mizzen!” Tom shouted. “Give her more 
sheet, Dick! ” As the mizzen drew, its action and that of the 
helm told, and the Surf swept up into the wind. “ Haul in 
the jib-sheet, Dick. That is enough; make it fast. Ease off 
the mizzen-sheet a little, Marco! That will do. Now lash 
yourselves with lines to the bulwark.” 

For the first minute or two it seemed to Horace that the 
Surf good boat as she was, could not live through those tre¬ 
mendous waves, each of which seemed as if it must overwhelm 
her; but although the water poured in torrents across her deck 
it went off as quickly through the hole in the lee bulwark, and 
but little came over her bow. 

“ She will do, sir! ” Tom, close to whom he had lashed 


56 


IN GREEK WATERS 


himself, shouted. “ It will be better when we get a bit farther 
out. She is a beauty, she is, and she answers to her helm 
well.” 

Gradually the Sutf drew out from the shore. 

“Are you going to come about, Tom? ” 

“Not yet, sir; we must get more sea-room before we try. 
Like enough she may miss stays in this sea. If she does we 
must wear her round.” 

“Now we will try,” he said five minutes later. “Get those 
lashings off. Mr. Horace, you will have to go up to the other 
side when she is round. Get ready to go about! ” he shouted. 

“ I will put the helm down at the first lull. Now! ” 

The Surf came round like a top, and had gathered way on 
the other tack before the next big wave struck her. 

“Well done!” Tom Burdett shouted joyously, and the 
others echoed the shout. In ten minutes they were far enough 
out to get a sight of the ship as they rose on the waves. 

“Just as I thought,” Ben muttered; “he thinks he will 
weather Ram’s Head, and he will go ashore somewhere on 
that reef of rocks to a certainty.” 

In another five minutes the course was again changed, and 
the Surf bore directly for the barque. In spite of the small 
sail she carried the water was two feet up the lee planks of 
her deck, and she was deluged every time by the seas, which 
struck her now almost abeam. But everything was battened 
down, and they heeded the water but little. 

“What do you think of her now?” Tom shouted to his 
brother-in-law. “Didn’t I tell you she would stand a, sea 
when your fishing-boats dare not show their noses out of the 
port? ” 

“She is a good ’un and no mistake, Tom. .1 did not think 
a craft her size could have lived in such a sea as this. You 
may brag about her as you like in future, and there ain’t a 
man in Seaport as will contradict you.” 

They were going through the water four feet to the barque’s 
one, and they were but a quarter of a mile astern of her when 


THE WRECK 


Horace exclaimed, “ She has struck! ” and at the same mo¬ 
ment her main and foremast went over the side. 

‘‘She is just about on the shallowest point of the reef,” Ben 
Harper said. “Now, how are you going to manage this job, 
Tom?” 

“There is only one way to do it,” the skipper said. “There 
is water enough for us Tide has flowed an hour and a half, 
and there must be two fathoms where she is lying. We must 
run up under her lee close enough to chuck a rope on board. 
Get a light rope bent on to the hawser. They must pull that 
on board, and we will hang to it as near as we_dare.” 

“You must go near her stern, Tom, or we shall get stove in 
with the masts and spars.” 

“Yes, it is lucky the mizzen is standing, else we could not 
have gone alongside till they got rid of them all, and they 
would never do that afore she broke up.” 

Horace, as he watched the ship, expected to see her go to 
pieces every moment. Each wave struck her with tremendous 
force, sending cataracts of water over her weather gunwale 
and across her deck. Many of the seas broke before they 
reached her, and the line of the reef could be traced far 
beyond her by the white and broken water. 

“Now, then,” the skipper shouted, “I shall keep the Surf 
about twice her own length from the wreck, and then put the 
helm hard down and shoot right up to her.” 

“That will be the safest plan, Tom. There are two men 
with* ropes standing ready in the mizzen-shrouds.” 

“I shall bring her in a little beyond that, Ben, if the wreck 
of the mainmast isn’t in the way; the mizzen may come out 
of her any moment, and if it fell on our decks it would be 
good-bve to us all.” 

A cheer broke from the men huddled up under shelter of 
the weather bulwark as the little craft swept past her stern. 

“Mind the wreck ! ” a voice shouted. 

Tom held up his hand, and a moment later put the helm 
down hard. The Surf swept round towards the ship, and her 


58 


IN GREEK WATERS 


way carried her on until the end of the bowsprit was but five 
or six yards distant. Then Tom shouted: 

“Now is your time, Dick; ” and the rope, was thrown right 
across the barque, where it was grasped by half a dozen hands. 

“Haul in till you get the hawser,” Dick shouted; “then 
make it fast.” At the same moment two ropes from the ship 
were thrown, and caught by Marco and Ben. Tom left the 
tiller now and lowered the try-sail. By the time the hawser 
was fast on board, the Surf had drifted twice her own length 
from the ship. “That will do, Ben; make the hawser fast 
there.” Two strong hawsers were hauled in from the ship 
and also made fast. 

“Now you can come as soon as you like,” Tom shouted. 
As the hawsers were fastened to the weather-side of the vessel, 
which was now heeled far over, it was a sharp incline down to 
the deck of the Surf and the crew, throwing their arms and 
legs round the hawsers, slid down without difficulty, the press¬ 
ure of the wind on the yacht keeping the ropes perfectly taut. 
As the men came within reach, Tom Burdett and Ben seized 
them by the collars and hauled them on board. 

“Any woman on board? ” he asked the first. 

“No, we have no passengers.” 

“That is a comfort. How many of a crew? ” 

“There were thirty-three all told, but four were killed by 
the falling mast, and three were washed ove^>oard before we 


struck, so there are twenty-six now.” 

In five minutes from the ropes b<. the captain, 

who was last man, was on board the ya Surf s own 

hawser had been thrown off by him beh Tawn in, 

and coiled down, and as soon as he was ard the 

other two hawsers were thrown off. 

“ Haul the jib a-weather, Dick,” Tom Burdc t ^ he 


took the helm again. “Slack the mizzen-sheet 
Marco; up with the try-sail again.” 

For a short distance the yacht drifted astern, a' 
the pressure of the jib began to make itself felt, 


THE WRECK 


59 


gradually payed off." “Haul in the try-sail and jib-sheets. 
Let go the weather-sheet, Dick, and haul in the other. That 
is it, now she begins to move again.” 

“You are only just in time,” the captain said to Tom; 
“she was just beginning to part in the middle when I left. 
You have saved all our lives, and I thank you heartily.” 

“This is the owner of the yacht, sir,” Tom said, motion¬ 
ing to Horace. “It is his doing that we came out.” 

“ Oh, that is all nonsense, Tom! You would have come 
just the same if I hadn’t been there.” 

“Well, sir, it has been a gallant rescue,” the captain said. 
“ I could hardly believe my eyes when I saw your sail com¬ 
ing after us, and I expected every moment to see it disappear.” 

“Now, captain,” Tom said, “make all your men sit down 
as close as they can pack under the weather bulwark; we ain’t 
in yet.” 

It was an anxious time as they struggled through the heavy 
sea on the way back, but the Surf stood it bravely, and the 
weight to windward enabled her to stand up more stiffly to 
her canvas. When they were abreast of the port half the men 
went over to the other side, the helm was put up, and she 
rushed towards the shore dead before the wind. The extra 
weight on deck told on her now, and it needed the most care¬ 
ful steering on Tom’s part to keep her straight before the 
waves, several of which broke over her taffrail and swept along 
the deck, one of them bursting out her bulwarks at the bow. 

“Get ready to haul in the sheets smartly,” Tom shouted as 
they neared the pier. 

He kept her course close to the pier-head, and as the Surf 
came abreast of it jammed down the tiller, while Ben and 
Dick hauled in the mizzen-sheet. A moment later she was 
shooting along under the shelter of the wall, while a loud 
shout of welcome rose above the howling of the wind from 
those on shore. 

“Now, sir, I will see about getting her moored,” Tom said, 
“ if you will run down and get some rum bottles out of the 


60 


IN GREEK WATERS 


locker; I am pretty well frozen and these poor fellows must 
be nigh perished, but it would never have done to open the 
hatchway in that sea.” 

“Come down, men,” Horace cried, as he dived below. 
“We had no time to light the fire before starting, but a glass 
of spirits will do you good all round.” 

Two or three of the fishermen row^ed out as soon as the 
yacht was moored, and in a few minutes all were ashore. 

“Now you had better run up to the house and change, Mr. 
Horace,” Tom Burdett said. “We will look after the men 
here and get them some dry things, and put them up amongst 
us. We have done a big thing, sir, and the Surf has been 
tried as I hope she will never be tried again as long as we 
have anything to do with her.” 

“All right, Tom! Will you come up with me, captain? 
There is no one at home but myself, and we will manage to 
rig you up somehow.” 

The captain, however, declined the invitation, saying that 
he would rather see after his men and put up himself at the 
public-house on the beach. 

“ I will come up later, sir. when I have seen everything all 
snug here.” 

Horace had some difficulty in making his way up through 
the crowd, for both men and women wished to shake hands 
with him. At last he got through, and, followed by Marco, 
ran up through the village to the house. Zaimes had been 
among the crowd assembled to see the Surf re-enter the port; 
and when Horace changed his things and came down stairs 
he found a bowl of hot soup ready for him. 

“You have given me a nice fright, Mr. Horace,” the Greek 
said as he entered the room. “ I have been scolding Marco, 
I can tell you.” 

“ It was not his fault, Zaimes. I made up my mind to go, 
and told him so, and he had the choice whether he would go 
or stay behind, and he went.” 

“Of course he went,” Zaimes said; “but he ought to have 


THE WRECK 


61 


come and told me. Then I should have gone too. How 
could I have met your father, do you think, if you had been 
drowned?” • 

“Well, you would not have been to blame, Zaimes, as you 
knew nothing about it until after we had started.” 

“No, you had been gone half an hour before someone from 
the village came up and told them in the kitchen. Then one 
of the servants brought me the news, and I ran down like a 
madman, without even stopping to get a hat. Then I found 
that most of the men had gone up to the cliff to keep you in 
sight, and I went up there and waited with them until you 
were nearly back again. Once or twice, as you were running 
in to the pier, I thought the yacht was gone.” 

“That was the worst bit, Zaimes. The sea came tumbling 
Over her stern, and I was washed off my feet two or three 
times. I almost thought that she was going down head¬ 
foremost. Well, I am glad I was at home this morning. I 
would not have missed it for anything.” 

“No, it is a good thing, now it is done, and something to 
be proud of. 1 am told very few of the fishermen thought 
that you would ever come back again.” 

“They didn’t know the boat as we did, Zaimes. I felt sure 
she would go through anything; and, besides, Tom kicked 
out the lower plank of the bulwarks on each side, so as to help 
her to free herself from water as it came on board, and flush¬ 
decked as she is, there was nothing to carry away; but she 
hasn’t taken a cupful of water down below.” 

In the evening the captain of the barque came up, and 
Horace learned from him that she was on her way from New 
Orleans laden with cotton. 

“The ship and cargo are insured,” the captain said; “and, 
as far as that goes, it is a good thing she is knocked into 
match-wood. She was a dull sailer at the best of times, and 
when laden you could not get her to lay anywhere near the 
wind. She would have done better than she did, though, 
hadn’t her rudder got damaged somehow in the night. She 


62 


IN GREEK WATERS 


ought to have clawed off the shore easy enough; but, as you 
saw, she sagged to leeward a foot for every foot she went for- 
’ard. I was part-owner in her, and I am not sorry she has 
gone. We tried to sell her last year, but they have been sell¬ 
ing so many ships out of the navy that we could not get any¬ 
thing of a price for her; but as she was well insured, I shall 
get a handier craft next time. I was well off shore when the 
storm began to get heavy last night, and felt no anxiety about 
our position till the rudder went wrong. But when I saw the 
coast this morning, I felt sure that unless there was a change 
in the weather nothing could save her. Well, if it hadn’t 
been for the loss of those seven hands, I should, thanks to 
you, have nothing to complain of.” 

Fires had been lit on the shore as night came on; but ex¬ 
cept fragments of the wreck and a number of bales of cotton 
nothing was recovered. In the morning the captain and crew 
left Seaport, two hands remaining behind to look after the 
cotton and recover as much as they could. Two days later 
Mr. Beveridge returned home. 

“ I saw in the paper before I left town, Horace, an account 
of your going out to the wreck and saving the lives of those 
on board. I am very glad 1 was not here, my lad. I don’t 
think I should have let you go; but as I knew nothing about 
it until it was all over, I had no anxiety about it, and felt 
quite proud of you when I read the account. The money was 
well laid out on that yacht, my boy. I don’t say that I didn’t 
think so before, but I certainly think so now. However, 
directly I read it I wrote to the Lifeboat Society and told 
them that I would pay for a boat to be placed here. Then 
there will be no occasion to tempt Providence the next time 
a vessel comes ashore on this part of the coast. You suc¬ 
ceeded once, Horace, but you might not succeed another 
time; and knowing what a sea sets in here in a south-westerly 
gale, I quite tremble now at the thought of your being out in 
it in that little craft.” 

The news that Mr. Beveridge had ordered a lifeboat for the 


THE WRECK 


63 


port gave great satisfaction among the fishermen, not so much 
perhaps because it would enable them to go out to wrecks, as 
because any of their own craft approaching the harbour in bad 
weather, and needing assistance, could then receive it. 

Horace became very popular in Seaport after the rescue, and 
was spoken of affectionately as the young squire, although they 
were unable to associate the term with his father; but the 
latter’s interest in the sea, and his occasionally going out in 
the yacht, seemed to have brought him nearer to the fishing 
people. There had before been absolutely nothing in common 
between them and the studious recluse, and even the Greeks, 
who had before been held in marked disfavour in the village 
as outlandish followers, were now regarded with different eyes 
when it was learned that Marco had been a fisherman too in 
his time, and his share in the adventure of the Surf dissipated 
the last shadow of prejudice against them. 

The weather continued more or less broken through the 
whole of the holidays, and Horace had but little sailing. He 
spent a good deal of his time over at his cousins’, rode occa¬ 
sionally after the hounds with them, and did some shooting. 
A week after coming home his father had again gone up to 
town, and remained there until after Horace had returned to 
Eton. He was, the lad observed, more abstracted even than 
usual, but was at the same time restless and unsettled. He 
looked eagerly for the post, and received and despatched a 
large number of letters. Horace supposed that he must be 
engaged in some very sharp and interesting controversy as to 
a disputed reading, or the meaning of some obscure passage, 
until the evening before he went away his father said: 

“ I suppose, Horace, you are following with interest the 
course of events in Thessaly?” 

“Well, father, we see the papers of course. There seems 
to be a row going on there; they are always fighting about 
something. From what I could understand of it, Ali Pasha 
of Janina has revolted against the Sultan, and the Turks are 
besieging him. What sort of a chap is he? He is an Alba¬ 
nian, isn’t he? ” 


64 


IN GREEK WATERS 


“ Yes, with all the virtues and vices of his race—ambitious, 
avaricious, revengeful, and cruel, but brave and astute. He 
has been the instrument of the Porte in breaking down the last 
remnants of independence in the wide districts he rules. As 
you know, very many of the Christian and Mussulman villages 
possessed armed guards called armatoli, who are responsible 
not only for the safety of the village, but for the security of 
the roads; the defence of the passes was committed to them, 
and they were able to keep the numerous bands of brigands 
within moderate bounds. This organization Ali Pasha set 
himself to work to weaken as soon as he came into power. 
He played off one party against the other—the Mussulmans 
against the Christians, the brigands against the armatoli, one 
powerful chief against another. He crushed the Suliots, who 
possessed a greater amount of independence, perhaps, than 
any of the other tribes, and who, it must be owned, were a 
scourge to all their neighbours. He took away all real' power 
from the armatoli, crippled the Mussulman communities as 
well as weakened the Christian villages; inspired terror in 
the whole population by the massacre of such as resisted his 
will, and those whom he could not crush by force he removed 
by poison; finally, he became so strong that it was evident 
his design was to become altogether independent of the Sul¬ 
tan. But he miscalculated his power, his armies fled almost 
without striking a blow; his sons, who commanded them, are 
either fugitives or prisoners; and now we hear that he is be¬ 
sieged in his fortress, which is capable of withstanding a very 
long siege.” 

“ He must be a thorough old scoundrel, I should say, 
father.” 

“ Yes, ” Mr. Beveridge assented somewhat unwillingly. “ No 
doubt he is a bad man, Horace; but he might have been—he 
may even yet be, useful to Greece. When it first became evi¬ 
dent that matters would come to a struggle between him and 
the Porte he issued proclamations calling upon the Christians 
to assist him and make common cause against the Turks, and 


THE WRECK 


65 


specially invited Greece to declare her independence of 
Turkey, and to join him.” 

“ But I should say, father, the Albanians would be even 
worse masters than the Turks.” 

“No doubt, Horace, no doubt. The Turks, I may own, 
have not on the whole been hard masters to the Christians. 
They are much harder upon the Mussulman population than 
upon the Christian, as the latter can complain to the Russians, 
who, as their co-religionists, claim to exercise a special protec¬ 
tion over them. But, indeed, all the Christian powers give pro¬ 
tection, more or less, to the Christian Greeks, who, especially 
in the Morea, have something approaching municipal institu¬ 
tions, and are governed largely by men chosen by themselves. 
Therefore the pashas take good care not to bring trouble on 
themselves or the Porte by interfering with them so long as 
they pay their taxes, which are by no means excessive; while 
the Mussulman part of the population, having no protectors, 
are exposed to all sorts of exactions, which are limited only 
by the fear of driving them into insurrection. Still this rebel¬ 
lion of Ali Pasha has naturally excited hopes in the minds of 
the Greeks and their friends that some results may arise from 
it, and no better opportunity is likely to occur for them to 
make an effort to shake off the yoke of the Turks. You may 
imagine, Horace, how exciting all this is to one who, like 
myself, is the son of a Greek mother, and to whom, therefore, 
the glorious traditions of Greece are the story of his own peo¬ 
ple. As yet my hopes are faint, but there is a greater prospect 
now than there has been for the last two hundred years, and I 
would give all I am worth in the world to live to see Greece 
recover her independence.” 


66 


IN GREEK WATERS 


CHAPTER IV 

A STARTLING PROPOSAL 

A FTER Horace returned to Eton, remembering the intense 
interest of his father in the affairs of Greece, he read up 
as far as he could everything relating to late events there. 
That he should obtain a really fair view of the situation was 
impossible. The Greeks had countrymen in every commercial 
city in the world; they were active and intelligent, and passion¬ 
ately desirous of interesting Europe in their cause. Upon 
the other hand the Turks were voiceless. Hence Europe only 
heard the Greek version of the state of affairs; their wrongs 
were exaggerated and events distorted with an utter disregard 
for truth, while no whisper of the other side of the question 
was ever heard. 

At that time the term Greek was applied to persons of Greek 
religion rather than of Greek nationality. The population of 
European Turkey, of pure Greek blood, was extremely small, 
while those who held the Greek form of religion were very 
numerous, and the influence possessed by them was even 
greater. The Christians were in point of intelligence, activ¬ 
ity, and wealth superior to the Turks. They were subservient 
and cringing when it suited their purpose, and were as a rule 
utterly unscrupulous. The consequence was that they worked 
their way into posts of responsibility and emolument in great 
numbers, being selected by the Porte in preference to the 
duller and less pushing Turks. In some portions of European 
Turkey they were all-powerful; in the Transylvanian provinces 
of Moldavia and Wallachia every post was held by Greeks, and 
there were but a few small and scattered Turkish garrisons. 
Yet here the population were incomparably more cruelly fleeced 
and ground down by their Greek masters than were the Chris¬ 
tians in the more Turkish provinces. 

In Servia and parts of Bulgaria the numbers were more 


A STARTLING PROPOSAL 


67 


even, but here also the Greeks held most of the responsible 
posts. In Greece proper the Christians vastly predominated, 
while in Northern Thessaly the numbers of the Christians and 
Mussulmans were about the same. 

The Greek metropolitan of Constantinople and his council 
exercised a large authority by means of the bishops and priests 
over the whole Christian population, while for some time a 
secret society named the Philike Hetaireia had been at work 
preparing them for a rising. It was started originally among 
the Greeks at Odessa, and was secretly patronized by Russia, 
which then, as since, had designs upon Constantinople. 

The first outbreak had occurred in March, 1821, when Prince 
Alexander Hypsilantes, who had been an officer in the Rus¬ 
sian service, crossed the Pruth, and was joined by the Greek 
officials and tax-gatherers of the Transylvanian provinces. 
He was a vain, empty-headed, and utterly incompetent ad¬ 
venturer. A small band of youths belonging to good families 
enrolled themselves under the title of the Sacred Band, and 
the army also joined him, but beyond the cold-blooded mas¬ 
sacre of a considerable number of Turks and their families he 
did absolutely nothing. The main body of the population, 
who bitterly hated their Greek oppressors, remained quiescent. 
Russia, seeing his utter incapacity, repudiated him, and after 
keeping alive the hopes of his followers by lying proclama¬ 
tions Hypsilantes secured his own safety by flight across the 
Austrian frontier when the Turkish army approached. The 
five hundred young men of the Sacred Battalion fought nobly 
and were killed almost to a man; but with the exception of a 
band of officers who refused to surrender, and shut themselves 
up in Skulani and in the monastery of Seko and there de¬ 
fended themselves bravely until the last, no resistance was 
offered to the Turks, and the insurrection was stamped out by 
the beginning of June. But in the meantime Greece proper 
was rising, and though the news came but slowly Horace saw 
that his father’s hopes were likely to be gratified, and that the 
Greeks would probably strike a blow at least for national in- 


68 


IN GREEK WATERS 


dependence, and he more than shared the general excitement 
that the news caused among educated men throughout Europe. 

The summer holidays passed uneventfully. Horace took 
long cruises in the Surf. He saw but little of his father, 
who was constantly absent in London. August came, and 
Horace returned from his last trip and was feeling rather 
depressed at the thought of going back to school in two days’ 
time. He met Zaimes as he entered the house. 

“Is my father back from town, Zaimes? ” 

“ Yes, Mr. Horace, and he told me to tell you as soon as you 
returned that he wished you to go to him at once in the 
library.” 

It was so unlike his father to want to see him particularly 
about anything, that Horace went in in some wonder as to 
what could be the matter. Mr. Beveridge was walking up and 
down the room. 

“Is your mind very much set on going back to Eton, 
Horace?” he asked abruptly. 

“ I don’t know, father,” Horace said, taken somewhat aback 
at the question. “ Well, I would very much rather go back, 
father, than be doing nothing here. I am very fond of sail¬ 
ing as an amusement, but one would not want to be at it always. 
Of course if there is anything really to do it would be differ¬ 
ent.” 

“Well, I think there is something else to do, Horace. You 
know my feeling with regard to this insurrection in Greece.” 

“Yes, father,” Horace, who was indeed rather tired of the 
subject, replied. 

“Well, you see, my boy, they have now resisted the Turks 
for some five months and have gained rather than lost ground. 
That seems to show decisively that this is no mere hasty ris¬ 
ing, but that the people are in earnest in the determination 
to win their liberty. Now that I am thoroughly convinced of 
this my course is clear, and I have determined upon going 
out to give such assistance as I can.” 

Horace was astounded. “Going out to fight, father? ” 


A STARTLING PROPOSAL 


69 

“Yes, if necessary to fight, but I can be of more use than in 
merely fighting. I have never, since I came into the property 
some twenty-four years ago, spent anything like a third of my 
income. Indeed, since my return from Greece my expenses 
here have been but a few hundreds a year. I have always 
hoped that I should have the opportunity of devoting the 
savings to help Greece to regain her independence. That 
moment has come. At first I feared that the movement would 
speedily die out; but the letters that I receive show that it is 
increasing daily, and indeed that the Greeks have placed 
themselves beyond the hope of forgiveness by, I am sorry to 
say, the massacre of large numbers of Turks. It is, of course, 
to be regretted that so glorious a cause should have been sul¬ 
lied by such conduct; but one cannot be surprised. Slaves 
are always cruel, and after the wrongs they have suffered, it 
could hardly be expected that they would forego their revenge 
when the opportunity at last came. However, the important 
point of the matter is, that there can be no drawing back 
now. 

“For better or for worse the revolution has begun. Now, 
Horace, you are but sixteen, but you are a sensible lad, and 
I have stood so much apart from other men from my boyhood 
that I am what you might call unpractical; while I take it that 
you from your temperament, and from being at a great public 
school, are eminently practical, therefore, I shall be glad to 
hear your opinion as to how this thing had best be set about. 
I take it, of course, that you are as interested in the struggle 
as I am.” 

“Well, not so interested perhaps, father. I feel, of course, 
that it is a horrible thing that a people like the Greeks, to 
whom we all owe so much, should be kept in slavery by the 
Turks, who have never done any good to mankind that I know 
of, and I should certainly be glad to do everything in my power 
to help; but of course it all comes so suddenly upon me that 
just at present I don’t see what had best be done.” 

“I heard from my friends in London that many young men 


70 


IN GREEK WATERS 


are already starting to assist the Greeks. What they will need 
most is not men, but arms and money, so at least my Greek 
friends write me.” 

“Well, father,” Horace said bluntly; “I should say you 
had much better give them arms than money. I have been 
reading the thing up as much as I could since it began, and 
as far as I can see the upper class Greeks, the men who, I 
suppose, will be the leaders, are a pretty bad lot—quite as 
bad, I should say, as the Turkish pashas.” 

“ Yes, I quite agree with you there, Horace. You see in a 
country that is enslaved political and other careers are closed, 
and the young men devote themselves to making money. You 
see that in the history of the Jews. All through the middle 
ages they were everywhere persecuted, every avenue to hon¬ 
ourable employment was closed to them, consequently they 
devoted themselves to making money, and have been the 
bankers of kings for hundreds of years. No doubt it is the 
same thing with the Greeks; but the mass of the people are 
uncorrupted, and with the deeds of their great forefathers 
always before them they will, I am sure, show themselves 
worthy of their name.” 

“No doubt, father; I think so too.” 

“You don’t mind my spending this money on the Cause, 
Horace,” his father asked anxiously, “because, though it is 
my savings, it would in the natural course of things come to^ 
you some day.” 

“Not at all, father; it is, as you say, your savings, and 
having at heart, as you have, the independence of Greece, I 
think it cannot be better laid out than assisting it. But I 
should certainly like it to be laid out for that, and not to go 
into the pockets of a lot of fellows who think more of feather¬ 
ing their own nests than of the freedom of Greece. So I should 
say the best thing would be to send out a cargo of arms and 
ammunition, as a beginning; other cargoes can go oqt as they 
are required. And you might, of course, take a certain amount 
of money to distribute yourself as you see it is required. I 
hope you mean to take me with you.” 


A STARTLING PROPOSAL 


71 


“I think so, Horace. You are young to do any fighting at 
present, but you will be a great support and comfort to me.” 

Horace could scarcely resist a smile, for he thought that if 
there was any fighting to be done he would be of considerably 
more use than his father. 

“ Well, I suppose the next thing, Horace, will be to go up 
to town to inquire about arms. My Greek friends there will 
advise me as to their purchase, and so on.” 

“Yes, father,” Horace said a little doubtfully; “but as it is 
late now I think, if you don’t mind, I will get some supper 
and turn in. I will think it over. I think we had better talk 
it over quietly and quite make up our minds what is best to 
be done before we set about anything; a few hours won’t make 
any difference.” 

“Quite so, Horace; it is no use our beginning by making 
mistakes. It is a great comfort to me, my boy, to have you 
with me. At any rate 1 will write to-night to your head¬ 
master and say that circumstances will prevent your return to 
Eton this term.” 

Horace went into the next room, had some supper, and then 
went thoughtfully up to bed. The idea of going out to fight 
for the independence of Greece was one which at any other 
time he would have regarded with enthusiasm, but under the 
present circumstances he felt depressed rather than excited. 
He admired his father for his great learning, and loved him 
for the kindness of his intentions towards him; but he had 
during the last two or three years been more and more im¬ 
pressed with the fact that in everything unconnected with his 
favourite subject his father was, as he said himself, utterly 
unpractical. He left the management of his estate to the 
steward, the management of the house to Zaimes, both happily, 
as it chanced, honest and capable men; but had they been 
rogues they could have victimized him to any extent. That 
his father, who lived in his library and who was absorbed in 
the past, should plunge into the turmoil of an insurrection was 
an almost bewildering idea. He would be plundered right 


72 


IN GREEK WATERS 


and left, and would believe every story told him; while as for 
his fighting, the thing seemed absolutely absurd. Horace felt 
that the whole responsibility would be on his shoulders, and 
this seemed altogether too much for him. Then the admission 
of his father that abominable massacres had been perpetrated 
by the Greeks shook his enthusiasm in the Cause. 

“ I should be glad to see them free and independent, and 
all that,” he said, “but I don’t want to be fighting side by 
side with murderers. Among such fellows as these, my father, 
who is a great deal more Greek than any Greek of the present 
day, I should say, would be made utterly miserable. He 
admits that the upper class are untrustworthy and avaricious. 
Now he says that the lower class have massacred people in 
cold blood. It does not affect him much in the distance, but 
if he were in the middle of it all it would be such a shock to 
him that I believe it would kill him. Besides, fancy his going 
long marches in the mountains, sleeping in the wet, and all 
that sort of thing, when he has never walked half a mile as 
far back as I can remember.” 

He lay tossing about for a couple of hours, and then sat 
suddenly up in bed. “That’s it,” he exclaimed, “that is a 
splendid idea. What a fool I was not to think of it before! 
If William Martyn is but at home that would be the thing 
above all.” 

Then he lay down, thought the matter over for another half- 
hour, and then went quietly off to sleep. 

“Well, Horace, have you been turning the matter over in 
your mind?” his father asked as soon as they sat down to 
breakfast. 

“ I have, father, and I have hit upon a plan that seems to 
me the very best thing possible in all ways.” 

“What is it, Horace?” 

“Well, father, it seems to me that if we take out war mate¬ 
rial to Athens it will very likely get into wrong hands alto¬ 
gether, and when arms are really wanted by ttie people of the 
mountains, and I expect that, it i« they who will do the fight- 


A STARTLING PROPOSAL 


73 


ing and not the people of the towns, there won’t be any to 
give them. The next thing is, if we go to Athens, and people 
know that you are a rich Englishman, you will get surrounded 
by sharks, and before you have time to know who is to be 
trusted, or anything about it, all your money will be gone. 
Then I am sure that you could not in that way take any active 
part in helping to free Greece, you never could stand marches 
in the mountains and sleeping in the open air, bad food, and 
all that sort of thing, after living the quiet indoor life you 
have for so many years. I know you would stick to it, father, 
as long as you could, but it seems to me you would be sure to 
get knocked up.” 

“Yes, I ought to have prepared for this, Horace. It would 
have been better for me to have taken regular exercise every 
day, even if I did get through a little less work. Still I am 
stronger than you think. I am only forty-four, and a man at 
forty-four ought to be able to do nearly as much as he ever 
could do.” 

“Yes, father, if he had lived an active life and exercised 
his muscles. I have no doubt you are just as strong in many 
things as other men; I never remember your being ill for a 
day; but I am sure you are not fit for knocking about among 
the mountains. What I have been thinking of is this. If 
you approve of it I will go over to Exmouth this morning and 
see if William Martyn is there. He is likely to be at home 
if his vessel is in port. If he is not, I will get his father to 
recommend some one. There must be lots of young lieuten¬ 
ants on half-pay who would jump at the idea. First I should 
engage with Martyn if he is there, or go to the man whom his 
fafher recommended to me at Plymouth, and get him to buy 
for you a fast schooner or brig—one that had either been an 
English privateer or a captured Frenchman would be about 
the thing—arrange with him to be the captain and engage 
officers and crew, and get him to arm her with as many guns 
as she will carry. He would be able probably to put us into 
the best way of buying muskets. As such immense numbers 


74 


IN GREEK WATERS 


of soldiers have been paid off, no doubt there have been great 
sales of muskets by government, and we might get them at a 
quarter the price we should have to pay for new ones. Of 
course we should take in ammunition in large quantities. All 
these mountaineers have no doubt got guns, and ammunition 
will be the thing most wanted of all. We could also pick up 
some cannon. No doubt they are to be bought for scrap iron. 
The Greeks will want them to arm their ships and batteries. 
In that way you see, father, you would have everything under 
your own hands. Nobody would know how many muskets you 
have got on board, and you could serve them out when or how 
they were required. 

“The same with money. We could cruise about and pop 
into quiet places, and send arms and ammunition up into the 
hills. Of course directly you got out there you would put the 
ship under the Greek flag, and by harassing the Turks at sea 
we might do a hundred times more good than we could by 
land. There would be no fatigue and no discomfort. You 
would always be comfortable on board, and could take Zaimes 
and Marco with you. We would take Tom Burdett as boat¬ 
swain. He was boatswain in the navy, you know. If he 
goes I daresay Dick will also go with us.” 

“ That is an excellent plan, Horace. It seems to meet all 
the difficulties, and I was really feeling uncomfortable at the 
thought of being mixed up in all the confusion and excite¬ 
ment there will, no doubt, be at Athens. It is a most happy 
idea. We will not lose a moment about it. I like that young 
fellow Martyn, and I hope you will be able to get hold of 
him. Let him name his own terms. I have not the least idea 
whether the captain of a vessel of that sort is paid five pounds 
a week or twenty-five. Of course it will be dangerous service, 
and should be liberally paid for. Well, you had better pack 
up your bag directly we have finished breakfast. You may be 
away for a week or ten days.” 

“I can’t start to-day, father, surely.” 

“No! why not, Horace?” 


A STARTLING PROPOSAL 


75 

“ Because, you know, you arranged we should both go over 
to dine at aunt’s.” 

“Of course, Horace; I quite forgot that. It is very annoy¬ 
ing, but I suppose it can’t be helped.” 

Horace laughed. “A day won’t make much difference, 
father. I am sure aunt would be very vexed if we did not 
turn up. Do you mean to tell her anything about it? ” 

Mr. Beveridge was silent for a minute. “I don’t think 
there is any occasion; do you, Horace?” he said doubtfully. 
“ She might raise objections, you know; though that, of course, 
would make no difference; arguments are always to be avoided, 
and your aunt was always a very positive woman.” 

“I think it is just as well to say nothing about it,” Horace 
said with a slight smile, for he felt sure that his aunt would 
oppose the project tooth and nail if she were aware of it, and 
that she would be backed by the whole strength of his mother’s 
family. He did not say this, but went on, “ It is a nuisance 
being asked a tremendous lot of questions about things, espe¬ 
cially when you don’t know much about them yourself. No, 
I think, father, we had better keep it quite quiet. It will be 
time enough to write a line to aunt and tell her that we are 
off, the last thing before we get up anchor.” 

“ I agree with you, Horace, so we will say nothing about 
this trip of ours. Well, as it seems you can’t go to-day, you 
had better make your arrangements to catch the coach to-mor¬ 
row morning. I will sign a dozen blank cheques, which you 
can fill up as required. Of course whoever accepts the post 
of captain will know all that will be wanted for the ship, and 
if he doesn’t know himself about the arms and ammunition 
he may be able to introduce you to some officer who does. 
Will you take Marco with you? ” 

“No, I don’t think so, father. I don’t see that he would 
be any use, and having a man going about with you looks as 
if one was being taken care of.” 

Horace caught the coach and alighted at Exmouth, and 
hurried to the revenue officer’s house. 


76 


IN GREEK WATERS 


“Is Mr. William Martyn in?” he asked the servant who 
opened the door. 

“He is not in just at present, sir; I think he went down to 
the river.” 

“ How long has he been home ? ” Horace asked, delighted 
at the news. 

“He only got in last week, sir; his ship got wrecked, and 
Mr. William turned up without any clothes, or anything except 
just what he stood up in.” 

“Hurrah!” Horace exclaimed, to the astonishment of the 
woman, and then without another word ran down to the 
wharfs. He soon saw the figure he was in search of talking 
to two or three old sailors. 

“ Hullo, youngster! ” Martyn said in surprise, as Horace 
came up, “where have you sprung from? ” 

“Off the top of the coach.” 

“ I suppose so. I have been having a bit of bad luck and 
lost my ship. We were wrecked off St. Catharine’s Point, at 
the back of the Isle of Wight, and there were only seven of 
us saved among a crew of thirty-five all told.” 

“Yes, I heard from your servant you had been wrecked,” 
Horace said. “She didn’t say that any lives had been lost; 
but I must have astonished her, now I think of it, for I said 
‘Hurrah! ’ when she told me.” 

“What did you say hurrah for? ” the mate asked gruffly. 

“ Because I wanted to find you here, and was so pleased that 
you were not going to sail away again directly.” 

“No,” Will Martyn said gloomily, “it is bad enough to 
have lost one’s kit and everything, and now I shall have to 
look about for another berth, for I think the vessel was only 
partly insured, and as the owners only have one or two ships I 
expect it will hit them rather hard, and that they won’t have 
another craft ready for* some time, so it will be no use my 
waiting for that.” 

The sailors had moved away when Horace came up, so that he 
was able at once to open the subject of his visit to the mate. 


A STARTLING PROPOSAL 


77 


“Well, that was just what 1 was hoping when I heard that 
you were wrecked, Will, for I had come over on purpose to 
see if you were disengaged and disposed to take a new berth.” 

“ What! is your father going in for a big yacht instead of 
the Surf, Horace?” 

“Well, not exactly, but something of that sort. You know 
I told you how enthusiastic he was about Greece and every¬ 
thing connected with it. Of course he is tremendously excited 
about this rising out there, and he is going to send out a lot 
of arms and ammunition. So we have talked it over and 
agreed that the best thing to do would be to buy a fast schooner 
or brig, fit her up as a privateer, fill her with arms and ammu¬ 
nition, and go out, hoist the Greek flag, and do what we can 
to help them against the Turks. Of course we thought at 
once of you to carry out the thing, and to act as captain. 
What do you say to it? ” 

“The very thing I should like, Horace; nothing could suit 
me better. Mind I am not giving any opinion as to whether 
it is a wise thing on the part of your father; that is his busi¬ 
ness. But as far as I am concerned I am your man.” 

“ My father said you were to name your own terms. He 
didn’t know anything about what the pay should be, but he 
particularly said that as it would be a service of danger it 
ought to be paid for liberally.” 

“Of course there will be danger,” the mate said, “but that 
adds to the pleasure of it. If I were a married man of course 
I should have to look at it in a different light; but as I ain’t, 
and have no idea of getting spliced, the danger does not 
trouble me. I have been getting eight pounds a month as 
third mate, and I should have got ten next voyage, as I was 
going second. As I shall be skipper on board this craft of 
yours, suppose we say twelve pounds a month.” 

“My father expected to pay more than that a good deal,” 
Horace said; “and as everything will depend upon you it 
would not be at all fair to pay the same sort of pay as if you 
were merely sailing in a merchant’s ship. However, he will 


78 


IN GREEK WATERS 


write to you about it. There will be a tremendous lot to do 
before we start, and we want to be off as soon as possible. 
There is a ship to buy and fit out, and officers to get, and a 
crew. Then we want to find out where we can buy muskets. 
It seemed to me that as government must have been selling 
great quantities, we should be able to get them pretty cheap.” 

“ I could find out all about that at the port where we fit 
out,” Will Martyn said. “As for cannon, they can be had 
almost for taking away. There are thousands and thousands 
of them to be had at every port. Five years ago every vessel 
went to sea armed. Now even the biggest craft only carry a 
gun or two for firing signals with, unless, of course, they are 
going to sail in Eastern waters. Well, this is a big job—a 
different sort of order altogether to buying the Surf for you. 
I hope it will turn out as well.” 

“Of course Plymouth will be the best port to go to.” 

“I don’t know. During the war certainly either that or 
Portsmouth would have been the best. Vessels were constantly 
coming in with prizes; but now, I should say either London 
or Liverpool would be the best for picking up the sort of craft 
we want. Still, as Plymouth is so much the nearest here, I 
should say we had best try there first. Then if we can’t find 
what we want we will take a passage by coaster to Portsmouth, 
if the wind is favourable; if not, go by coach. But how are 
you off for money, because I am at dead low-water? I have 
got a few pounds owing to me, but I can’t handle that till I 
get to London.” 

“I have twenty pounds,” Horace said. “We didn’t think, 
when I started, of going farther than Plymouth; but I have 
some blank cheques for paying for things.” 

“Twenty pounds ought to be ample; but if we find at Plym¬ 
outh we want more I can easily get one cashed for you. I 
know plenty of people there.” 

“Well, when can you start, Will? My father is anxious not 
to lose a moment.” 

“ I can start in ten minutes if my father is at home. I should 


A STARTLING PROPOSAL 


79 


want to have just a short chat with him; but I can do that 
while they are getting the chaise ready. Our best plan would 
be to drive to Exeter and take the evening coach going through 
there. There is one comes through about six o’clock. I have 
come down by it several times. It will take us into Plymouth 
by twelve o’clock; so we should gain nothing if we started 
earlier.” 

“Well, I will go to the inn,” Horace said. 

“No; that you won’t, Horace. You come round with me. 
I expect dinner is ready by this time. We generally dine at 
one. My father went out in the cutter to look after a wreck 
four or five miles along the coast, and he said he did not ex¬ 
pect to be back till between two and three; so we settled to 
dine at three. There is the cutter coming up the river now.” 

“But you would rather be with your father alone,” Horace 
said. 

“Not a bit of it. I have got nothing private to say to him, 
except to get him to let me draw twenty pounds from his agent 
to get a fresh rig-out with. He would like to see you again, 
especially as I am going to sail with you, and he may be able to 
put us up to a few wrinkles as to getting our powder on board, 
and so on. Of course I have been accustomed to seejng it got 
in from government powder hulks. We will just walk up to 
the house now if you don’t mind, to tell the girl to put an 
extra knife and fork on the table, then we will go down and 
meet my father when he lands.” 

r The servant looked with such strong disapprobation upon 
Horace when she opened the door that he burst into a fit of 
laughter. “You are thinking about my saying hurrah when I 
heard Mr. Martyn was wrecked?” he said. “Well, I did not 
exactly mean that, only I was very glad, because I thought if 
he had not been wrecked he could not have shipped just at 
present, and I wanted him very badly.” 

“Yes, I am off again, Hesba,” the mate said. “Going right 
away this afternoon. That is a bit of luck, isn’t it? I have 
just come back to tell you to put another knife and fork upon 


80 


IN GREEK WATERS 


the table, as Mr. Beveridge is going to dine with us; and if you 
have time to kill a fatted calf, or anything of that sort, do so.” 

“Lor’, Mr. William, you know very well there ain’t no 
fatted calf, and if there was it would take ever so long to kill 
it and get some meat cooked, if it was only cutlets.” 

“Well,” Martyn laughed, “never mind the calf, Hesba; 
but if dinner is short run straight down to the butcher’s and 
get a good big tender steak, and look sharp about it, for my 
father will be here in a quarter of an hour.” 

As Horace had seen Captain Martyn (as he was by courtesy 
called, being in command of a revenue cutter, although only in 
fact a lieutenant) several times while fitting out, the Surf the 
officer knew him as he saw him standing at the top of the stairs 
with his son. 

“Well, Master Beveridge,” he said as he climbed up the 
stairs, “I haven’t seen you since you sailed away in that little 
craft. I hear you did a brave deed in her, going out in that 
gale to rescue the crew of the Caledon . It is lucky you caught 
Will in.” He was by this time ashore and shaking hands 
heartily with Horace. 

“He has come to take me away, father,” Will said. “Mr. 
Beveridge is going to get a fast craft to carry out arms and 
ammunition to the Greeks, and he has offered me the com¬ 
mand.” 

“ I should not mind going myself, Will. I am sorry you are 
off so soon; but you are likely to see some stirring scenes over 
there. When are you going? ” 

“We are going to start directly we have had some dinner, 
father. We will order a chaise as we go along. We intend 
to catch the six-o’clock coach at Exeter, so as to get to Plym¬ 
outh to-night. I am going to see if we can pick up a likely 
craft there. If not, I shall try Portsmouth and Southampton, 
and if they won’t do, London.” 

i Well, that is sharp work, Will. But you have no kit to 
pack, so there is no difficulty about it. However, there is 
no time to be lost.” 


A STARTLING PROPOSAL 


81 


At a quarter to four the post-chaise was at the door, and 
Will Martyn and Horace started. The horses were good, and 
they were in plenty of time for the coach, and arrived duly 
in Plymouth. As soon as they had breakfasted next morning 
they started out and went first to the shipping office of a firm 
known to Will Martyn, and there got a list of ships lying for 
sale in the port. 

“What sort of craft are you looking for, Martyn?” the 
shipping agent said. “We have a dozen at least on our own 
books, and you may as well give us a turn before you look at 
any others.” 

“I want a schooner or a brig—I don’t much care which it 
is—of about a couple of hundred tons. She must be very fast 
and weatherly; the sort of craft that was used as a privateer 
in the war; or as a slaver; or something of that kind.” 

“ I have only one craft that answers to that description,” the 
agent said; “but I should say that she was what you want. 
She was sent home from the west coast of Africa six months 
ago, as a prize. Of course she was sold, and was bought by 
a man I know. After he had got her he found she had not 
enough carrying power for his business. She never was built 
for cargo, and would be an expensive vessel to work, for she 
has a large sail spread, and would want so strong a crew to 
work her that she would never pay. He bought her cheap for 
that reason, and will be glad to get the price he gave for her, 
or if the point were pressed even to make some loss to get her 
off his hands. They call her a hundred and fifty, and she 
looks a big vessel for that size. But if she had eighty tons 
in her hold it would be as much as she could carry with com ¬ 
fort.” 

“That sounds promising,” Martyn said. “At any rate we 
will begin by having a look at her. Where is she lying? ” 

“About three miles up the river. Tide is making; so we 
could run up there in a sailing boat in half an hour. I will 
go with you myself. There is a care-taker on board. Are 
you buying her for yourself, Martyn? ” 


82 


IN GREEK WATERS 


The mate laughed. 

“ As I have not captured an heiress I am not likely to be¬ 
come a ship owner. No; Mr. Beveridge’s father is fond of 
the sea, and has commissioned me to buy a comfortable craft 
that shall be at once fast and seaworthy, and I am going to 
command her.” 

“Well, I don’t think you would find anything that would 
suit your purpose better than the Creole. She would make a 
splendid yacht for a gentleman who had a fancy for long 
cruises.” 

“What is her age? ” the mate asked. 

“Well, of course we can’t tell exactly; but the dockyard 
people thought she couldn’t be'above four or five years old. 
That is what they put her down as when they sold her. At 
any rate she is sound, and in as good condition as if she had 
just come off the stocks. She had been hulled in two or three 
places in the fight when she was captured, but she was made 
all right in the dockyard before she was put up for sale. All 
her gear, sails, and so on are in excellent condition.” 

“Where are they? ” 

“They are on board. As we had a care-taker it was cheaper 
to leave them there and have good fires going occasionally to 
keep them dry than it would have been to stow them away on 
shore.” 

There was a brisk breeze blowing, and in less than the half 
hour mentioned by the agent he said: “That’s her lying over 
on the farther side.” 

“She looks like a slaver all over,” Martyn said as he stood 
up to examine the long low craft. “ I suppose they caught 
her coming out of a river, for she would show her heels, I 
should guess, to any cruiser that was ever built, at any rate in 
light winds. If she is as good as she looks she is just the 
thing for us.” 

When they reached the vessel they rowed found her before 
going on board. * 

“She is like a big Surf” Will said to Horace; “finer in 



THEIR FIRST SIGHT OF THE SCHOONER 



































A STARTLING PROPOSAL 


83 


her lines, and lighter. She ought to sail like a witch. I see 
she carried four guns on each side.” 

“Yes, and a long pivot-gun. They are down in the hold 
now. She was sold just as she stood; but I suppose they will 
be of no use to you.” 

“Some of them may be,” Martyn said carelessly. “If we 
go cruising up the Mediterranean it is just as well to have a 
gun or two on board. Now let us look at her accommoda¬ 
tion. 

“Yes, she is a very roomy craft on deck,” he went on as he 
stepped on board. “ She has a wonderful lot of beam, much 
more than she looks to have when you see her on the water, 
owing to her lines being so fine.” 

“ She has lots of head-room here,” Horace said as they went 
below. “I thought that slavers had very low decks.” 

“So they have,” the mate said. “I expect when she took 
a cargo on board they rigged up a deck of planks here so as 
to have two tiers for the slaves; that would give them about 
three foot three to each tier.” 

They spent over two hours on board. Will Martyn ex¬ 
amined everything most carefully, prodding the planks and 
timbers with his knife, going down into the hold and prying 
into the state of the timbers there, getting into the boat, to 
examine the stern-post and rudder, and afterwards overhauling 
a good deal of the gear. The inspection was in all respects 
satisfactory. 

“She will do if the price will do,” he said. “How much 
do they want for her? ” 

“He paid fifteen hundred at the dockyard sale,” the agent 
said; “that is ten pound a ton, with all her gear, fittings, and 
so on, thrown in. As you see, there is the cabin furniture, 
and so on, all complete, except the paint. There needn’t be 
a penny laid out on her.” 

“Well, how much will he take off? ” Martyn said. “ Fifteen 
hundred was anyone’s price, and as she don’t suit him, she 
won’t suit many people. If he is likely to have her on his 


84 


IN GREEK WATERS 


hands any time, eating her head off and losing value, he ought 
to be glad to take anything near what he gave for her. Well, 
frankly, how much will he take off? Business is business. I 
have admitted the boat will suit me; now what is the limit 
you are authorized to take?” 

“He will take two hundred less. It is a ridiculously low 
price.” 

“Of course it is,” Will agreed. “But shipping at present 
is a drug in the market, and this ship is practically fit for 
nothing but a yacht or the Levant trade. I expect I could get 
her a couple of hundred pounds cheaper if I held off. What 
do you think, Horace?” 

“I don’t think it would be fair to knock down the price 
lower than that,” Horace said. 

“ It is fair to get a thing as cheap as you can. If you try 
to get it for less than he will sell it for you don’t get it, that 
is all. He is not obliged to sell, and you are not obliged to 
buy. Still, the price is a very reasonable one, and we will 
take her at that. You have full authority to sell, I suppose, 
without reference to your principal? ” 

“Yes.” 

“Very well, then, we will go to your office. Mr. Beveridge 
will give you a cheque for thirteen hundred pounds, and you 
shall hand over possession.” 

“Good. It is eleven o’clock now, Johnson,” he said to the 
care-taker. “ Here is your money up to to-night, but from 
twelve o’clock to-day Mr. Martyn takes possession as agent for 
the owners, so you will take your orders from him.” 

“You can go on as usual,” Will said. “We will pay you 
from twelve o’clock, so you will make a half-day’s pay by the 
change.” 




FITTING OUT 


85 


CHAPTER V 

FITTING OUT 

T^HE cheque for the payment of the Creole was filled up and 
handed over, the agent giving a formal receipt and pos¬ 
session of the vessel, and undertaking to sign the necessary 
papers as soon as they could be drawn out. 

“You are evidently lucky about ships,” William Martyn 
said as he left the agent’s office with Horace. “You have got 
a little wonder in the Surf, and there is no doubt about the 
Creole being a bargain. When the war was going on she 
would have been snapped up at double the price, and would 
have been cheap at that. Now the first thing to do is to get 
first and second mates. Directly I have got them I can put 
a gang of riggers on board. I will go to the Naval Club, and 
see the list of the officers on board the ships here. I am 
pretty sure to know some of them, and shall find out from 
them whether there are any of my old messmates down here. 
If they don’t know of any, we might hear of men to suit at the 
Club. There are always plenty of men here and at Ports¬ 
mouth waiting about on the chance of meeting some officer 
they have served under and getting him to put in a word for 
them at the Admiralty.” 

“I will walk down with you to the Club, but I won’t go in 
with you; one is only in the way when people who know each 
other are talking. And besides, Martyn, don’t you think 
before you do anything you ought to see about your clothes? ” 

“ Of course I ought; I never gave the matter a thought 
before. But I certainly could not put my foot on the quarter¬ 
deck of one of His Majesty’s ships in this turn-out. No. 
The first thing to do is to drop into my father’s agent to draw 
some money. Then I will go into a slop-shop and get a suit. 
I know a place where they keep really decent togs. A man 
often has to join in a hurry, and wants a fit-out at half an 


86 


IN GREEK WATERS 


hour’s notice. Then I can order the rest of the things at the 
tailor’s I used to get my clothes from. ’Pon my word, now 
you speak of it, I am ashamed to be going out in these things. 
They were an old suit that I put on when bad weather set in, 
and they have shrunk so that the sleeves don’t come half-way 
down to the wrists, and the trousers are up to the ankles. As 
a master’s mate it didn’t matter so very much, for masters’ 
mates are very often out at elbows, but as commander of the 
Creole it is a different thing altogether.” 

Martyn was lucky in picking up the undress uniform of a 
lieutenant that just fitted him. 

“ I can let you have it at that price, because I got it a 
bargain,” the man said. “The owner came in here a few 
weeks ago with a man beside him. He had just come down 
to join his ship, which was to sail in a few hours, and as he 
stepped off the coach was served with a writ by a Jew he had 
borrowed money of two or three years before. It was only a 
few pounds, but to make up the sum he had to sell some of 
his things, and this suit was among them.” 

“ And nicely you ground him down in the price, I have no 
doubt,” Martyn growled. “However, I have got the benefit 
of it. Now, Horace, I can show at the Club. Just take your 
knife out and cut this strap off the shoulder. I can’t go about 
as a full-fledged lieutenant, though I have passed.” 

They were walking up the main street when a voice ex¬ 
claimed : 

“Hullo, Martyn! is that you?” and a young officer shook 
him warmly by the hand. 

“ Why, Dacent, this is luck. I am glad to see you indeed. 
It is three years since we ran against each other last; five 
since we served together in the Nonpareil. What are you 
doing? ” 

“I am third in the flagship here. What are you doing? I 
met O’Connor the other day; he told me he had “run across 
you at Malta, and that you had gone into the merchant ser¬ 
vice like so many other of our old friends.” 


FITTING OUT 


-87 


“ That was so, Dacent. It was of no use kicking my heels 
on shore when I hadn’t the ghost of a chance of getting 
appointed to a ship. So I had to swallow my pride and ship 
in a merchantman. We were wrecked at the back of the 
Wight in the storm last week, and I have had the luck to get 
a fresh appointment, and that is what I am here for. I was 
just on my way to the Club to see if I could find any of my old 
chums. You are just the fellow to help me. But first let me 
introduce Mr. Beveridge. He is the son of my owner. Half 
an hour ago he completed the purchase of the craft that I am 
to command. She is a beauty. I don’t know whether you 
know her. She is called the Creole , a schooner of a hundred 
and fifty tons. She is lying up the river.” 

“I know her well enough,” Dacent said, as he shook hands 
with Horace. “She was brought in here the week after I 
joined. I thought she was as pretty a looking craft as I ever 
set eyes on. I congratulate you, old fellow. There are not 
many things that you won’t be able to show your heels to. 
But what line is she going to be in? She would make a fine 
craft for the Levant trade.” 

“That is just where we are going, Dacent, but not to trade. 
I will tell you what we are going to do, but it must be kept 
dark. I don’t know whether they might not look upon it as 
a breach of the neutrality laws. Mr. Beveridge is an enthu¬ 
siast for the cause of Greece, and we are going to take out a 
cargo of guns and ammunition, and then we shall hoist the 
Greek flag, and do a little fighting on our own account with 
the Turks as a Greek privateer.” 

“ By Jove, I envy you, Martyn. That is a thousand times 
better than sticking in Plymouth Sound with nothing to do but 
to see the men holy-stone the deck, and fetching and carrying 
messages. Now, what is it I can do for you? ” 

“Well, in the first place, I want a couple of officers; for 
choice, I would have one who has passed, and could take the 
command in case anything happened to me. I don’t care 
whether the second is a mate or a midshipman who has pretty 
nearly served his time.” 


88 


IN GREEK WATERS 


“ I know just the man for you, for your first. There is 
Miller—you remember him? ” 

“ Of course; I was with him in the Minerva frigate in the 
West Indies. He was a capital fellow. Is he to be had? ” 

“Yes; I saw him only yesterday. He has been two years 
out of a berth, and no chance of getting a ship, and he was 
looking out for a berth on board a merchantman, but he had 
not heard of one when I saw him. He gave me his address; 
here it is—the Anchor Inn; it is a little place not far from 
the dock gates. I expect Jim has no money to spare. His 
father is a clergyman near Falmouth. I asked him why he 
didn’t look for a ship there. He laughed, and said he didn’t 
mind shipping into the merchant service anywhere else; but 
he shouldn’t like to do it so near home, after swaggering 
about there in the king’s uniform.” 

“ I will go down at once. It is just one o’clock, and we are 
likely to catch him in.” 

“Well, will you and your friend dine with me at the Club 
at six o’clock, Martyn? We can chat there better than we 
can on board, and we have lots to tell each other since we 
last parted.” 

The invitation was accepted, and then Martyn and Horace 
set off to find the Anchor. 

“There is one thing I have not asked you,” the former 
said, as they went along. “ How about prize-money, because 
you know that makes a good deal of difference. I don’t sup¬ 
pose there will be much to be got, because there are not many 
craft flying the Turkish flag, and the seas will be swarming 
with Greek craft who are half-pirates even in time of peace. 
Still we may capture a Turkish man-of-war brig or something 
of that sort, and she may have treasure on board such as pay 
for the troops. I suppose we should share according to the 
ordinary privateer scale.” 

Certainly,’ Horace said. “My father has no idea of 
making money by the thing, and I can certainly promise that 
he will agree to the usual scale whatever it is.” 


FITTING OUT 


89 


‘‘That is right. I thought that it would be so, and, indeed, 
although officers might go without, you would hardly get men 
to risk their lives unless there was a chance of prize-money.” 

“It would not be fair to ask them to do so,” Horace said. 
“Of course that would be understood. All these sort of 
arrangements are in your hands. My father particularly said 
so; he really knows nothing about these matters. You must 
make all these arrangements just as if you were the owner, 
and please arrange what you consider liberal terms to every¬ 
one. My father has made up his mind to spend a certain sum 
of money which he has long laid by for the purpose, and I am 
sure we are more likely to succeed in helping the Greeks if 
everyone on board is quite contented and happy. Oh, the*e 
is the Inn; I won’t go in with you. You had much better 
talk it over with him by yourself.” 

Ten minutes later Martyn came out with a short square- 
built young fellow of about his own age, with a good-humoured 
merry face, which was at present beaming with satisfaction. 

“That is all settled,” Martyn said. “Mr. Beveridge, let me 
introduce to you Mr. James Miller, first lieutenant of your 
father’s schooner, the Creole .” 

“It is a perfect godsend,” Miller said, as he shook hands 
with Horace. “ I began to despair of getting a ship here, 
and I am precious glad now I didn’t, for I should have been 
mad if I had met Martyn, and found I had missed this chance. 
It will be glorious fun, and it looked as if one were never 
going to have a chance of that sort of thing again.” 

“And he knows of a young fellow who will suit us for our 
second,” Martyn said, “Jack Tarleton. He was with us in 
the Minei-va. I remember him only as a jolly little mid. I 
had just passed then, and he was the youngest; but he lives 
close to Miller, and he says he has grown up into a fine young 
fellow. He is about nineteen now. He has not passed yet, 
for he was laid on the shelf four months before his time was 
up, and not having passed, of course he is even worse off than 
either of us. Not that it matters so much to him, for his father 


90 


IN GREEK WATERS 


has an estate; but as Jack is the second son, and loves his 
profession, he is so anxious to be afloat again that he told 
Miller the other day he would ship before the mast if he could 
not get a berth before long. Miller will write to him this 
afternoon, and he will be here to-morrow night or next morn¬ 
ing. I have asked him to come round and have lunch with us 
at the Falcon. Mr. Beveridge and his father sail with us, 
Miller, in the double capacity, as I understand, of owners and 
fighting men.” 

Horace laughed. “ In the first place, I am not going to be 
called Mr. Beveridge or Mr. Anything,” he said. “ I shall be 
regarded as a sort of third officer, and do my work regularly 
while we are at sea. I know a little about sailing already,” 
he said to Miller, “so I sha’n’t be quite a green hand.” 

“No, indeed,” Martyn said. “Horace, if I am to call him 
so, has got a fifteen-ton yacht I picked up for him, and a 
first-rate little craft she is. He went out in a big gale last 
winter, and rescued the crew of a wreck, the Celadon .” 

“I saw it in the paper,” Miller said warmly, “and thought 
what a plucky thing it was. That is capital. Then you will 
be like one of ourselves. Well, what are you going to do 
first, Martyn?” 

“ First we are going to lunch. Then you will write your 
letter to Tarleton and post it. After that we will charter a 
boat and go up and look at the Creole again. You haven’t 
seen her yet, and we haven’t seen her since the purchase was 
concluded, and a craft always looks different when you know 
she is yours. After making an overhaul we will go ashore to 
the nearest yard and arrange for her to be docked, and her 
bottom cleaned and scrubbed; I expect it wants it pretty 
badly. That will be enough for to-day. As soon as she is 
in the water again we will set a gang of riggers at work. I 
shall take charge of that part of the business, and I will leave 
it to you to hunt up a crew. We have got a boatswain. At 
least I have no doubt we have.” 

“How many men are you going to take, Martyn?” 


FITTING OUT 


91 


“She mounts four guns each side and a long Tom—I don’t 
know what the metal is yet—and she is heavily sparred. Of 
course she hasn’t got her topmasts in place, but her masts 
are very long, and I have no doubt she shows a good spread 
of sail; those craft always do. We shall want a strong crew, 
for, if we fight at all, it will be against craft a good deal bigger 
than ourselves. There is any amount of room on the main 
deck, where they carried the slaves. Of course we needn’t 
settle at present, but I should say we ought to carry from forty 
to fifty men.” * 

“ I think we ought certainly to have a strong crew,” Horace 
said, “ so as to be able to land a strong party if we wanted to; 
the extra expense would be of no consequence.” 

“We must pick our men, Miller—smart active fellows, and, 
of course, men-of-war’s for choice. If we can’t get enough 
here, we will sail her round to Portsmouth and fill up there. 
There ought to be plenty of prime seamen to be had. They 
would jump at the chance of sailing in such a craft as ours.” 

Miller was delighted with the ship, and they now especially 
examined the cabin arrangements. The saloon ran across the 
stern of the ship. It was handsomely fitted up in mahogany. 
Leading off this, on the port side, was a large cabin that had 
evidently been the captain’s. This, of course, would be Mr. 
Beveridge’s. On the starboard side were three cabins. Next 
to these was the steward’s pantry and cabin; and facing this, 
on the port side, two other state-rooms. 

“It could not have been better if it had been built for us,” 
Miller said. “There are three cabins on the starboard side. 
Horace will take one of the three, I suppose, and that will 
leave a spare cabin in case we take a passenger we are likely 
to want.” 

“What are you thinking of, Miller?” 

“I was thinking that as we are going to fight, it is not by 
any means impossible that some of us or the men may be 
wounded.” 

“I should certainly say it was quite possible,” Martyn 
laughed. 


92 


IN GREEK WATERS 


“ Well, you see as long as it is only a clip from a cutlass or 
a flesh wound through the arm, I fancy we might patch it up 
between us with a bit of plaster and a bandage; but if it comes 
to an amputation or getting a bullet out of the body, or any¬ 
thing of that sort, who is going to do it? ” 

“ By Jove ! you are right, Miller. I had not thought of that. 
I am afraid we shall have to take a surgeon with us. It would 
never do to go into action in the Levant, where there is no 
chance of finding an English doctor, without having at least 
a surgeon’s-mate on board.”- 

“Of course not,” Horace agreed; “that is an absolute 
necessity. Will you see about it at once, please.” 

“There is no difficulty in getting surgeons,” Martyn said. 
“Of course young fellows who have just done walking hospi¬ 
tals are as plentiful as peas; but we had better get hold of a 
man who has been knocking about for a few years in the navy, 
and who has had some experience in gunshot wounds. There 
must be plenty of good men about, for they have suffered just 
as we have by the reduction. I will speak to Dacent about 
it this evening, and get him to ask one of the naval surgeons 
here if he knows a man. One or other of them is almost sure 
to do so. Well, the spare cabin will be for him. So now we 
are fixed completely.” 

“We shall have to take off a little bit from the main deck, 
because my father’s two Greeks will certainly come with us. 
Only one can sleep in the steward’s cabin, so we shall want a 
small cabin for the other and a place for cooking. They are 
first-rate cooks, both of them; and I expect they will under¬ 
take the cooking altogether for us.” 

“That can very easily be managed,” Martyn said. “We 
can knock a door through this bulkhead, and run another bulk¬ 
head up across the deck, seven or eight feet farther forward. 
I have not forgotten that Greek’s cooking; and if we live on 
board this craft as you did on the Surf\ I can tell you, Miller, 
we needn’t envy an admiral.” 

“Well, I like a good dinner, I must own, Martyn, though I 
can do with salt-horse if necessary.” 


FITTING OUT 


93 


“But are you sure, Horace,” Martyn said, “that your father 
wouldn’t prefer having the cabin astern all to yourselves? 
When we are about it we could put the bulkhead farther for¬ 
ward, and make a ward-room for us.” 

“No, I am sure he would not wish that,” Horace said. “I 
will write to him when we get ashore and ask him; but I am 
sure he would find it more pleasant our being all together, 
and it would be much better for him than being by himself. 
My father is a great scholar,” he explained to Miller, “and 
is always poring over books. I am sure it will do him a lot 
of good getting away from them altogether and being with 
people. Besides, that private cabin of his is a good size, 
and there will be plenty of room for him to have a table and 
an easy-chair in it whenever he is disposed to shut himself up. 
However, I will hear what he says.” 

After leaving the ship a visit was paid to one of the ship¬ 
building yards, and arrangements made for the Creole to 
be brought into dock at high-tide. On getting back to the 
inn Horace wrote to his father on the various questions that 
had arisen, and then to Marco, telling him to come over by 
coach, and to bring Tom Burdett with him. They then went 
to dine at the club with Dacent, who entered with great zest 
into their arrangements. 

“I can’t tell you what is your best way of setting about 
getting the arms; but I should say go to Durncombe’s. They 
are by far the largest ship-chandlers here, and I should say 
that they could supply anything from an anchor to a tallow- 
dip. They must have fitted out innumerable privateers, and 
bought up the stores of as many prizes. They may not be 
able to supply you with as many small-arms as you want; but 
if you give them an order for a thousand cannon, I have not 
a doubt they could execute it in twenty-four hours, and that 
at the price of old iron. As to the muskets, they could no 
doubt collect a big lot here, and get more still from Ports¬ 
mouth. Those of course would be principally ship’s muskets, 
no longer wanted or taken from prizes. I don’t suppose they 


94 


IN GREEK WATERS 


would get enough, and of course you would want them in fair 
condition; but they would put advertisements for them in the 
Birmingham papers, or, likely enough, would know firms in 
Birmingham who had bought up muskets sold out of the army.” 

“What do they buy them for? ” Horace asked. 

“ Oh, they contract for the supply of those South American 
States, for trade in Africa and the East, or for the supply of 
the armies of native princes in India. I think, if I were you, 

I would not go to him direct, but would get the agent you got 
the Creole from to undertake it, and get the terms settled. He 
would get them a good bit cheaper than you could.” 

“No doubt he would,” Martyn agreed, “especially if we 
agreed to pay him so much for getting it, instead of so much 
commission. When a man gets a commission he has no in¬ 
terest in keeping the price down; just the contrary. I will 
ask him casually, to begin with, what is the cost of muskets 
in fair condition, and at what price we could pick up guns— 
say six, eight, and twelve pounders—complete, with car¬ 
riages.” 

“I don’t know about the carriages, Martyn; but I know the 
guns fetch less by a good bit than their weight of old iron. 
They cost more to break up, in fact, than they are worth; and 
they.are using them for posts, and things of that sort, for the 
sake of getting rid of them. I should say that you could get 
a couple of hundred guns of those sizes to-morrow for a pound 
apiece, and I believe that you might almost get them for the 
trouble of carting away, for they are simply so much lumber. 
Powder is a glut in the market too. I should say hundreds of 
tons have been emptied into the sea in this port alone, for 
when the merchant skippers found they no longer required to 
carry it, it was cheaper for them to throw it overboard than 
to get rid of it in any other way.” 

When they returned to the Falcon that evening they found 
Miller had shifted his quarters there from the little inn in 
which he had been staying, and two days later Jack Tarleton 
also arrived there. He was a good-looking young fellow, 


FITTING OUT 


95 


nearly six feet in height, slight at present, but likely to fill 
out, with a somewhat quiet manner, but, as Horace soon 
found, a quick appreciation of the humorous side of things 
and a good deal of quiet fun. On the same day Marco ar¬ 
rived with Tom Burdett, who was delighted when Horace 
disclosed the project to him. 

“I should think I would like to go, Mr. Horace. Why, 
bless you, I have been feeling almost as if I was rusting out 
at Seaport, except when you were at home. Why, it will be 
like giving one a fresh lease of life to get at one’s own work 
again.” 

He was at once installed on board the Creole , which on 
that day had been let out of the dock again with her copper 
scrubbed until it shone like gold. Miller had as yet had 
no time to see about the men, and Tom at once undertook this 
part of the business. 

“ I know every tavern down by the waterside and the places 
where men are likely to be found. I will soon pick you up 
some prime hands. If I can’t get enough of them here, I will 
take a run to Bristol. There is a big trade there, and there 
will be plenty of men-of-war’s-men to be had for the asking 
for such a job as this.” 

“How about Seaport, Tom?” Horace asked. 

“Well, we will take Dick; but there are not many I would 
care about having from there. They are good enough in their 
fishing-boats, but I would rather have men who are accustomed 
to bigger craft. Besides, though fishermen are good sailors 
in some ways, they are not accustomed to discipline, and are 
always slovenly in their way of doing things. Besides, if I 
persuaded young fellows to come from there, and any of them 
got killed, their fathers and mothers would look black at me 
when I got back. No, I don’t think I will have anyone but 
Dick.” 

By this time a letter had come from Mr. Beveridge in answer 
to Horace’s letter. 

“I quite agree with you,” he said, “that the officers should 


96 


IN GREEK WATERS 


be paid fairly. I see that, as you say, it is not a thing that 
you could very well arrange with them. Will you tell Mr. 
Martyn, from me, that the terms I propose are twenty guineas 
a month for him, eighteen for the second officer, and fifteen 
for the third; and that, in case of any of them losing a limb 
or being disabled, I shall settle upon them a pension the same 
as that to which they would have been entitled at their rank 
in the navy in the same case. The ship appears to me to be 
wonderfully cheap. I knew nothing about it, but quite ex¬ 
pected that it would cost three times as much. Certainly I 
should not wish for them to have a separate cabin. It will be 
much more pleasant for me, if not disagreeable to them, for 
us to live together. As for what you say about prize-money, 
tell Mr. Martyn to arrange as he proposes, according to the 
ordinary usage in privateers. It is a matter to which I have 
given no thought, but he shall give me the particulars when 
we meet. As you know', I have no intention of making profit 
out of the enterprise.” 

Two days later Martyn told Horace that Dacent had intro¬ 
duced him to one of the surgeons, who knew a young doctor 
who would, he thought, suit. “His name is Macfarlane; he 
is, of course, a Scotchman—most of the naval doctors are 
either Irish or Scotch. He sailed with him as surgeon’s-mate 
in a large frigate, where they had a good deal of experience 
in wounds, and he has a high idea of his skill. He is a very 
quiet sort of fellow, but a pleasant messmate. He has been 
full surgeon for some time now. His ship was paid off a fort¬ 
night ago, and the man who told me of him had a letter from 
him a few days since, saying that, as he had no interest he 
thought that he had but little chance of getting afloat again, 
and asking him to let him know if he heard of any opening, 
either ashore or in an Indiaman. He thought he would suit 
us very well, so I said that I would speak to you about it.” 

“I should think that will be just the thing, Martyn.” • 

“Very well, then, I will see the surgeon to-morrow, and get 
him to write and offer him the berth at the regular naval rate 


FITTING OUT 


97 


of pay. Of course we sha’n’t want him to join till we are 
ready to sail.” 

Some days later a reply was received, accepting the berth. 

For the next fortnight work proceeded rapidly. Stores of 
all kinds for the voyage were brought on board and stowed 
away. Sixty cannon were stowed down in the hold, with thirty 
carriages for them, the latter taking up too much room to be 
carried for the whole of the guns. Eight twelve-pounders, in 
place of the eight-pounders before carried by her, and a long 
eighteen-pounder were placed in the hold in readiness to 
mount on deck when they reached the Levant. The riggers 
and painters had finished their work, the decks had been 
planed and holy-stoned until they were spotlessly white, and 
the tall spars and gear were all in their place. The guns had 
cost only about as much as Miller had said, and they could 
have obtained any number at the same price. The agent had 
made a contract with the ship’s chandlers for five thousand 
muskets complete with bayonets, in good order, and delivered 
on board, at ten shillings each. Some five hundred of these 
had been collected, and—after passing muster, by an armourer 
sergeant Martyn engaged for the purpose—put on board. The 
rest were to be sent by canal from Birmingham to Liverpool, 
and thence shipped round to Plymouth. Five tons of gun¬ 
powder in barrels, twenty tons of shot for the cannon, and two 
hundred thousand rounds of ammunition for the muskets were 
also arranged for. These were to be shipped at the last 
moment from magazines at the mouth of the Sound. 

Below, everything had been done to make the cabins as 
comfortable as possible, and Dacent declared that she was 
altogether too neat and comfortable for anything but an ad- 
i miral’s yacht. Tom Burdett had picked up at Plymouth 
twenty-five smart sailors, all of whom had served in king’s 
ships; and then, going to Bristol, had brought as many more 
from there. Uniforms, closely resembling those of men-of- 
war sailors, had been served out to them, but instead of the 
straw hat they wore red woollen caps. The officers had only 


98 


IN GREEK WATERS 


to exchange their navy buttons for others with an anchor to 
be complete; Horace had donned similar attire. 

It was just three weeks after Horace left home that he wrote 
to his father saying that all was now in readiness, and that 
they could sail within an hour of his arrival. They were at 
once going out to take their powder on board, and would re¬ 
main at anchor off the magazines, and that he himself should 
be at the Falcon when it was time for the first coach to arrive 
after the receipt of his letter, and should remain there until 
his father came. Mr. Macfarlane, the surgeon, arrived by the 
coach that evening, and was put down at the Falcon. Martyn 
and Horace went out when they heard the coach stop. 

“That is the doctor, for a guinea,” Martyn said, as a tall 
bony man climbed down from the roof, and began very care¬ 
fully to look after his luggage. 

“I think you must be Doctor Macfarlane?” he said, going 
up to him. “ My name is Martyn. ” 

“I am very glad to see you, Captain Martyn,” the doctor 
said; “I take it as a sign that I shall have a pleasant time 
that my commander should meet me as I get off the coach.” 

“ I am captain only by courtesy, and shall hardly consider 
that I have got my brevet rank till we hoist the flag to-morrow. 
This is Mr. Beveridge, the owner’s son, he will sail with us as 
third officer. I have ordered a room for you, doctor. Boots 
will carry your things up.” 

“Thank you; I will see to them myself, and join you in the 
coffee-room. I am not fond of trusting to other folk; ” and 
he followed the servant upstairs with his baggage. 

Martyn laughed as he went into the coffee-room with Horace. 
“Cautious you see, Horace, and right enough to be so; I 
think we shall like him. There is a pleasant tone in his 
voice, and I have no doubt he will turn out a good fellow, 
though, perhaps, rather a character.” 

The doctor soon came down. 

Eh, man, he said, “but it is weary work sitting with your 
legs doubled up all thoseffiours on a coach, b our-and-twenty 


FITTING OUT 


99 


hours it is since I got up at Salisbury. And so, Mr. Bever¬ 
idge, we are going out to fight for the Greeks. I misdoubt, 
sir, if they will do much fighting for themselves. I was three 
years east of Malta. There is good in them, we may take it 
that there is good in them, but it is very difficult to get at; at 
least that was my experience.” 

“They have not had much chance, I think, doctor, so far.” 

“And how large is your ship, Captain Martyn? ” the doctor 
said, changing the subject suddenly. 

“They call her a hundred and fifty, but she has a light 
draft of water and would not carry that, yet she has excel¬ 
lent accommodation below, as you will say when you see her 
to-morrow.” 

The conversation then turned on naval matters, and the 
stations and ships that both Martyn and the doctor knew; and 
when they separated for the evening Martyn and Horace agreed 
that the doctor was likely to be a pleasant acquisition to their 
party. 

Marco had been intrusted with the entire charge of laying 
in stores for the cabin, and these had arrived in such profusion 
that Will Martyn had demanded whether he was victualling the 
ship with cabin stores for a voyage round the world. 

It had been given out that the ship was bound for Lisbon, 
but the news of her destination had gradually leaked out, 
although pains had been taken to get the military stores on 
board as quietly as possible. Sympathy with Greece was gen¬ 
eral, however, and although the young officers were quietly 
joked by their naval acquaintances as to their cargo for Por¬ 
tugal, no official inquiries were made on the subject. 

“I sha’n’t be sorry, Horace,” Will Martyn said, as they 
were rowed off in the gig for the last time before getting up 
anchor, “ when we get some of our heavy stuff out of her. 
One way or another she will have a hundred and twenty tons 
of stuff on board when we have taken in our powder, and 
though I don’t at all say that she will be overladen she will be 
a foot too low in the water to pleaseune, and she wouldn’t be 
able to do her best if she were chased in her present trim.” 


100 


IN GREEK WATERS 


“The little difference in speed won’t matter much on our 
way out,” Horace said. 

“ No, not as to time, of course, a day more or less is no 
matter; still, one always likes to get all one can out of one’s 
ship, Horace, and it is a triumph to slip past other craft. If 
you have a slow craft you don’t mind whether other things 
leave you behind in an hour or two hours; you jog along and 
you don’t worry about it; you are like a man driving a heavy 
cart. But when you are in a crack schooner you are like a 
man on the road with a fast horse and a light gig, you expect 
to go past other things, and you like to do it in good style.” 

“Well, nothing will beat her in looks, I think, Will.” 

“No, that is quite certain. She is a picture.” 

Everything was done on board the Creole in man-of-war 
fashion. Tarleton stood at the top of the ladder to receive 
the captain as he came on board. He touched his cap to 
Martyn, who touched his in return. 

“Everything ready for getting under weigh, Mr. Tarle¬ 
ton?” 

“Everything quite ready, sir.” 

“Then shorten the chain a bit; man the capstan.” 

Jack Tarleton gave the order. Tom Burdett’s boatswain’s 
whistle rang out loudly; the capstan-bars were already fixed, 
and a dozen men ran merrily round with it till the whistle 
sounded again. 

“The anchor is short, sir,” Tarleton sang out to Martyn. 

“Very well, leave her so, Mr. Tarleton. Will you make sail, 
Mr. Miller?” 

The orders were given, the mainsail, foresail, and fore-stay¬ 
sail hoisted, and the jibs run out on the bowsprit. As soon 
as the halliards were belayed and coiled down, the capstan- 
bars were manned again, and the anchor weighed. The tide 
had just turned to run out, there was a gentle breeze blowing, 
and as the two jibs were run up the Creole began to steal 
through the water. 

“Port your helm!” Martyn said to the man at the wheel; 


FITTING OUT 


101 


“let her come round easy. Slack off the main-sheet; that 
will do now. Get her topsails on her, Mr. Miller.” 

Horace looked up with a feeling of pride and delight at the 
cloud of white sail and at the smart active crew, all in duck 
trousers, blue shirts, and red caps. Once out of the river the 
sheets were hauled in, the yards of the fore-topsail were braced 
as much fore and aft as they would stand, and the Creole 
turned her head seaward, looking, as Martyn said, almost into 
the wind’s eye. The red ensign was flying from the peak of 
the mainsail, and from the mast-head a long pennant bearing 
her name. 

“She is slipping through the water rarely, Miller,” Will 
Martyn said, as he looked over the side. 

“Yes, she is going six knots through it, and that, consider¬ 
ing how close-hauled she is and that the wind is light, is won¬ 
derful.” 

“ She would go a good knot faster,” Martyn said, “ if she had 
fifty tons of that stuff out of her. Those slavers know how to 
build, and no mistake, and I don’t think they ever turned out 
a better craft than this.” 

It was not until late in the afternoon that the Creole dropped 
anchor off the magazine, where she was to take in her powder, 
as Martyn ran her out twenty miles to sea and back again to 
stretch her ropes and, as he said, let things shape down a bit. 
When the trip was over there was not a man on board but was 
in the state of the highest satisfaction with the craft. Both 
close-hauled on the way out and free on her return they had 
passed several vessels almost as if these had been standing 
still, going three feet to their two; and although there was 
but little sea on, there was enough to satisfy them that she 
had no lack of buoyancy, even in her present trim. 

As soon as the anchor was down and the ’sails stowed Marco 
announced that dinner was ready, for all had been too much 
interested in the behaviour of the schooner to think of going 
down for lunch. It was the first meal that they Rad taken on 
board beyond a crusjt of bread and cheese in the middle of the 


102 


IN GREEK WATERS 


day, and as they sat down, Will Martyn taking the head of the 
table, Horace, as his father’s representative, facing him, and 
the others at the sides, Miller said with a laugh, as he looked 
at the appointments, all of which had been sent over from the 
house two days before by Zaimes: “This is rather a contrast, 
Martyn, to the cockpit of a man-of-war.” 

“ Rather. I never did dine with an admiral, but this is the 
sort of thing that I have always fancied it would be if it had 
entered into the head of one to invite me. What do you 
think, Tarleton? ” 

“I feel shy at present, sir, and as if I oughtn’t to speak till 
spoken to.” 

“You will be spoken to pretty sharply if you say ‘sir ’ down 
below. On deck, as we agreed, we would have things in 
man-of-war fashion; but we are not going to have anything of 
that sort when we are below together.” 

The dinner was an excellent one, and though the expecta¬ 
tions of Miller and Tarleton had been raised by Martyn’s 
encomiums of the Greek’s cooking they were far surpassed 
by the reality. “It is a dinner fit for a king,” Martyn said 
when the cloth was cleared away and a decanter of port placed 
on the table. 

“There is one misfortune in it. If this sort of thing is 
going to last we shall never be fit for service in an ordinary 
craft again, we shall become Sybarites. Is this the sort of 
dinner you always have at home, Horace?” 

“About the same, I think,” Horace laughed. “My father 
takes no exercise and has not much appetite, and I think he 
likes nice things; and it is one of the Greek’s great aims in 
life to tempt him to eat. We always have a very good cook, 
but Zaimes insists on having a few little things of his own 
cooking on the table, and as he is generally at war with the 
cook, and they leave in consequence about every three or four 
months, he often has the dinner altogether in his hands till a 
fresh one arrives, and I am amused sometimes to see how 
Zaimes fidgets when my father, which is often the case, is so 


FITTING OUT 


103 


occupied with his own thoughts that he eats mechanically 
and does not notice what is before him. Zaimes stands it 
for a minute or two and then asks some question or makes 
some observation that calls my father’s attention back to what 
he is doing. They have both been with him for two-and- 
twenty years and are devoted to him. They are hardly like 
English servants, and talk to him in a way English servants 
would not think of doing. They are always perfectly respect¬ 
ful, you know, but they regard themselves, as he regards them, 
as friends as well as servants.” 

“Well, gentlemen, we will drink the usual toast, ‘The King, 
God bless him;’ that is duty. Now fill up again, here is 
‘Success to the Creole . ’ ” When the toast was drank Martyn 
went on: 

“How did your father pick them up, Horace?” 

“ It was just after he went out to Greece, which was directly 
after he left college. He was at Samos, and got leave from 
the Turkish governor to visit the prison. In one of the cells 
were Zaimes and Marco, who was then a boy about sixteen. 
They were condemned to death; they had been smuggling, 
and a Turkish boat had overhauled them. They had resisted. 
Four of the men with them had been killed in the fight, and 
several of the Turks. These two had been both severely 
wounded and made prisoners. My father was new to that sort 
of thing then. After he had been a year or two in Greece he 
knew that it would take a king’s fortune to buy out all the 
prisoners in the Turkish jails, but being only out there a month 
or two he was touched at the sight of the two prisoners. They 
were both very handsome, though, of course, pale and pulled 
down by their wounds and imprisonment, and Zaimes, who 
was the spokesman, had that courteous gentle manner that my 
father says all the Greeks have when they are not excited.” 

“At any rate he was very much interested and went off to 
the governor again, and the Turk was glad enough for a bribe 
of a hundred pounds to give him an order for the release of 
the two prisoners, on condition that they were to be let out 


104 


IN GREEK WATERS 


after dark and at once put on board a craft that was sailing at 
daybreak next morning. My father went with them, and after 
that they absolutely refused to leave him, and travelled with 
him in Greece for some time and fought very pluckily when 
some Klepts once tried to carry him away into the mountains. 
Then he bought a small craft and established his head-quarters 
at Mitylene, and for a year lived there and cruised about 
the islands. When he came home he offered the felucca to 
them, but they refused to take it, and begged so hard for him to 
take them home with him that he agreed to do so, and they 
have proved invaluable to him ever since.” 

“Your father is lucky in having got hold of two such men,” 
Martyn said. “ I believe the lower order of Greeks are fine 
fellows in their way. They are quarrelsome and passionate, 
no doubt, and apt to whip out their knives at the smallest 
provocation, and there is no trade they take so kindly to as 
that of a bandit; otherwise I believe they are honest hard¬ 
working fellows. But as for the upper class of Greeks, the 
less I have to do with them the better. When they get a 
chance they grind down their countrymen a deal worse than 
the Turks do. They are slippery customers and no mistake. 

1 would rather take a Turk’s simple word than a solemn oath 
from a Greek.” 

“No; veracity is hardly one of their conspicuous virtues,” 
the doctor put in quietly. “I take it that the ancients were 
so accustomed to swear by their gods, even after they had 
ceased to believe in them, that they came to consider that an 
oath by them was not binding, and so got into the way of lying 
generally, and their descendants have never amended their 
ways in that particular since. On more than one occasion, 
when there was trouble between our sailors and the Greeks, 

I attended their courts, and for good downright hard swearing 
I never heard them approached. I don’t wonder that the 
1 urks refuse to allow Christians to give evidence in their 
courts. "YV e shall see when we get out, but I have grave 
doubts whether there has been any revolution at all, and 


FITTING OUT 


105 


whether it is not a got-up thing altogether, just to see what 
the rest of the world says to it.” 

The others laughed. 

“There is one thing, doctor,” Miller said; “we have heard 
from Europeans who are out there of what has been done, it 
does not come from the Greeks only.” 

“That is a confirmation, certainly, but it is well known 
that travellers’ tales must always be received with caution. It 
has been so since the days of Herodotus. When a man gets 
away from his own country he is apt to get a certain looseness 
of the tongue. We will wait until we get out there before we 
form any strong opinion about it.” 

By this time they had finished their coffee, and Martyn, 
rising, said: “ Mr. Tarleton, I shall be glad if you will go 
along the main-deck and see that the men are making them¬ 
selves comfortable; to-naorrow we will divide them into watches 
and tell them off to their stations and get things into working 
order.” 

Accordingly, in the morning the crew were divided into 
two watches, and the boat’s crews told off, and then the work 
of getting the powder and small ammunition on board began; 
the latter did not take long, as it was already in a flat into 
which it had been discharged three days before from the 
coaster that had brought it from Liverpool. The flat had 
therefore only to be towed alongside and the cases swung on 
board and lowered into a portion of the hold that had been 
divided off from the rest by thick bulkheads to form a mag¬ 
azine. The ammunition and powder were all on board and 
stowed away, the ship was washed down, and the men piped 
to dinner by eight bells. The officers went down and divided 
the men into messes, examined the food, and saw that every¬ 
thing was comfortable. 

“More room here than there was on board the Surf, Dick,” 
Horace said as he stopped a moment on his rounds to speak 
to the young sailor. 

“ Yes, sir, one can stand upright here. But the Surf was a 
good boat too.” 


106 


IN GREEK WATERS 


After dinner the men were told off to their various duties 
and divided into crews for the guns, when these should be in 
place. The first lieutenant (for it was agreed that they should 
be called lieutenants and not mates) and Horace took the 
starboard watch, Tarleton and the boatswain the port watch. 
The men were formed up, inspected, and put through cutlass 
drill for an hour, after which the watches by turns were exer¬ 
cised in setting sail, reefing, lowering, and furling, so that 
each man should know his place and duty. Then they were 
dismissed. 

“They will be a first-rate crew when they have worked 
together for a few days,” Martyn said. “ I could not wish for 
a smarter set of men. If we meet anything about our own 
size I shall have no fear of giving a good account of her. I 
have no opinion whatever of the Turks as sailors; they are 
good soldiers, and have always proved themselves so, but more 
lubberly sailors never went to sea.” 

“Well, we are not likely to meet anything else,” Horace 
said. 

“I don’t know, lad. The Greeks at the best of times are 
pirates at heart, and just at present they are not at all likely 
to be particular who they lay hands on. I saw in the paper 
only yesterday, they had attacked and plundered an Austrian 
craft, and it is probable that they may have done the same to 
a dozen others, only as a rule they scuttle any ship they may 
seize and nothing is ever known about her. Ships can’t be 
too careful when they are in Greek waters, and a vessel 
wrecked on any of the islands is looked upon as a lawful prize. 
There is,no fear ore'> being taken by surprise by the Turks, 
but I shall ta^e precious good care that we are never caught 
napping when we are anchored anywhere in the Greek Archi¬ 
pelago. After dinner, Horace, I will go ashore with you in 
the gig. I don t think it likely your father will be down by 
the night coach, as he would only get your letter this morn- 
but he may come; at any rate you have got to wait now 
at the Falcon till he turns up.” 


UNDER WEIGH 


107 


CHAPTER VI 

UNDER WEIGH 

A FTER seeing to a few matters that had been left till the 
^ last moment, Will Martyn returned on board again. Hor¬ 
ace dined at the club, of which he had been made an hon¬ 
orary member, and then went back to the Falcon. To his 
surprise Zaimes was standing at the door. 

‘‘Why, Zaimes, how on earth did you get here? Why, the 
coach does not get in till twelve o’clock.” 

“No, Mr. Horace, but we had everything ready to start 
this morning. Of course your letter did not come in time 
for us to get over to the early coach, but we were expecting it 
after what you wrote yesterday, and your father had concluded 
that it would be much more comfortable to post. He does 
not like being crowded, and it was doubtful whether there 
would be room for the two of us; and there was the luggage, 
so we had arranged for a post-chaise to come for us anyhow, 
and we started half an hour after your letter came in, and 
have posted comfortably. Your father is in the coffee-room. 
He would not have a private room, as he did not know whether 
you would be taking him on board this evening.” 

Mr. Beveridge was sitting at a table by himself, and had 
just finished his dinner when Horace came in. He looked up 
more briskly than usual. 

“I am sorry I was not here to meet " " , father,” Hr^-iev. 
said; “but I did not think you could be here til the niglV 
coach.” 

“No; I did not expect to find you here, Horace, so it was 
no disappointment. ' Well, you look bronzed and well, my 
boy, you and your friends seem to have done wonders in get¬ 
ting everything done so soon. I am quite anxious to see the 
ship. Are we to go on board this evening?” 

“If you don’t mind, father, I would much rather you didn’t 


108 


IN GREEK WATERS 


go off till morning. I said that if you came we would break¬ 
fast early and be ready for the gig at half-past eight. They 
won’t be expecting us to-night, and I am sure Martyn and the 
others will like to have everything in the best possible order 
when you go on board. We have been expecting those boxes 
of books you wrote about a week ago, but they haven’t turned 
up. It will be a horrible nuisance if, after the way we have 
been pushing everything forward, we should be kept waiting 
two or three days for them.” 

“ Well, Horace, the fact is I changed my mind. The four 
boxes were packed and in the hall. They really were very 
large boxes, and Zaimes said: ‘ Well, master, what you are 
going to do with all those books I can’t imagine. Where are 
you going to put them? Why, they would fill your cabin up 
solid. If I were you, sir, I would not take one of them. 
Just give yourself a holiday. Don’t take a pen in your hand 
while you are away. You will have plenty to see about and 
to think about, and I am sure it would do you a deal of good 
to give it up altogether for a time, and you will take it up 
freshly afterwards. Besides, you will have people coming on 
board, and your advice will be asked, and you will have to 
decide all sorts of things, and you know you won’t be able to 
bring your mind out of your books if you have them on board. ’ 
He said something like it when I first began to talk of pack¬ 
ing, but it seemed to me impossible that I could give up 
work altogether; but the sight of those four great boxes stag¬ 
gered me. Then I said: 4 Zaimes, this is not like that little 
cabin on board the yacht. This is quite a large vessel in 
comparison.’ 4 Yes, sir,’ he replied, ‘ but your cabin won’t 
be larger than the main cabin in the Surf, not so large I should 
fancy. ’ This surprised me altogether, but he assured me it 
was so, and pressed me so much on the matter that I at last 
agreed to leave them all behind.” 

“ That is a capital thing, father. Zaimes was quite right. 
Your state-room is a very nice cabin, but except that it is a 
good deal more lofty, it is certainly not so large by a good 


UNDER WEIGH 


109 


deal as the main cabin in the Surf; besides, if you had your 
books you would be always shut up there, and what I thought 
of all along, from the time you first spoke about coming out, 
was what a good thing it would be for you to have a thorough 
holiday, and to put aside the old work altogether.” 

“You don’t think it valuable, Horace?” Mr. Beveridge 
asked wistfully. 

“ I do, father. I think it most valuable, and no one can be 
prouder than I am of your reputation, and that all learned 
men should acknowledge the immense value of your works to 
Greek students. But, father, after all, the number of men who 
go into all that is very small, and I can’t see why your life 
should be entirely given up to them. I think that at any rate 
it will be a first-rate thing for you, and extremely pleasant for 
me, that you should be like the rest of us while we are out on 
this expedition. As Zaimes says, you will have a lot of things 
to decide upon, and we are going to lead an active, stirring 
life, and it is new Greece we shall have to think about, and 
not the Greece of two thousand years ago. It is your aim to 
raise, not the Greeks of the time of Miltiades, but a people 
who in these two thousand years have become a race, not only 
of slaves, but of ignorant savages, for these massacres of 
unarmed people show that they are nothing better; and not 
only to free them, but to make them worthy of being a nation 
again. I think, father, there will be ample scope for all your 
thoughts and attention in the present without giving a thought 
to the niceties of the language spoken by Demosthenes, so I 
am truly and heartily glad you decided to leave your books 
behind you.” 

“I think you are right, Horace; I am sure you are right; 
but it is a wrench to me to cut myself loose altogether from 
the habits of a lifetime.” 

“ And now, father, what are you going to do about clothes? ” 
Horace said, looking at him closely* 

“About clothes!” his father repeated vaguely. “I have 
brought two large boxes full with me.” 


110 


IN GREEK WATERS 


“Yes, father, no doubt you have clothes, but I am sure that 
on board ship—and you will be always living there, you know 
—it will be much more comfortable for you to have clothes fit 
for the sea. Frilled shirts, and ruffles, and tight breeches, 
and high-heeled Hessian boots, and short-waisted tail-coats 
are all very well on shore, but the first time you are out in a 
good brisk gale, you would wish them anywhere. What you 
want is a couple of suits, at least, of blue cloth like mine, with 
brass buttons, and a low cloth cap like this that will keep on 
your head whilst it is blowing, in fact the sort of suit that the 
owner of a big yacht would naturally wear. Of course when 
you go ashore to see any of the Greek leaders, you might like 
to go in your ordinary dress; but really for sea you want com¬ 
fortable clothes, and a good thick pea-jacket for rough 
weather.” 

“ Perhaps you are right, Horace, and I did remark that my 
heels left marks upon the deck of the Surf” 

“Certainly they did, father; and it would be agony to Will 
Martyn to have the beautiful white deck of the Creole spoiled.” 

“But it is too late now, it is half-past eight o’clock.” 

“Oh, I can take you to a shop where they .keep this sort of 
thing. Besides, there are twelve hours before we start, and by 
paying for it one can get pretty nearly anything made in twelve 
hours.” 

Mr. Beveridge suffered himself to be persuaded. Fortu¬ 
nately the outfitter had a couple of suits ordered by one of the 
officers of a ship of war in harbour nearly completed. These 
he agreed to alter to fit Mr. Beveridge by the morning, and to 
put on extra hands to turn out fresh suits for the person for 
whom they were intended. The gold lace, white facings, and 
other distinguishing marks would be removed, and plain brass 
buttons substituted for the royal buttons. Two or three pairs 
of shoes with low heels were also obtained. The clothes came 
home at seven in the morning, and Mr. Beveridge came down 
to breakfast looking like the smart captain of a merchantman. 

“I feel as if I were dressed for a masquerade, Horace/’ he 
said with a smile. 


UNDER WEIGH 


111 


“ You look first-rate, father, and a lot more comfortable than 
usual, I can tell you.” 

It was at Martyn’s suggestion that Horace had urged his 
father to make a change in his attire. 

“ It would be a good thing if you could get him to put on 
sea-going togs,” the sailor had said. “He is the owner of as 
smart a craft as ever sailed out of British waters, and he will 
look a good deal more at home on the deck of his own ship 
in regular yachtsman’s dress than he would rigged up in his 
ruffles and boots.” 

With this Horace had agreed heartily, for his father’s ap¬ 
pearance on occasions when he had gone out with him in the 
Surf had struck him as being wholly incongruous with the 
surroundings. 

At half-past eight they went down to the steps, two porters 
carrying the luggage under the watchful eye of Zaimes. As 
they were seen, the smart gig with its six rowers, which was 
lying a short distance off, rowed in to the steps. Tarleton was 
steering. He stepped out to hand Mr. Beveridge into the 
boat. 

“This is Mr. Tarleton, father, our second lieutenant.” 

“I am glad to meet you, sir,” Mr. Beveridge said, shaking 
hands with the young officer. “ I hope that we shall have a 
pleasant cruise together.” 

“I feel sure we shall, sir. If one couldn’t be comfortable 
on board the Creole , one couldn’t be comfortable anywhere.” 

Tarleton took his seat in the centre to steer, with Mr. 
Beveridge and Horace on either side of him, Zaimes and the 
luggage were placed in the bow. The bowman pushed the 
boat off with the boat-hook. The oars, which had been tossed 
in man-of-war fashion, fell with a splash into the water, and 
then with a long steady stroke the gig darted away from the 
stops. 

“This is certainly very pleasant,” Mr. Beveridge said as 
they threaded through the anchored craft and made their way 
seaward. “ I begin to wish I had taken up yachting twenty 
years back.” 


112 


IN GREEK WATERS 


“Well, it is not too late, father. When we have done with 
Greece, you can go in for amusement if you like.” 

“I should never find time, Horace.” 

“ Oh, you could make time, father. You could spare three 
months in the year and be all the better for it. When you 
have once had a break, you will find how pleasant it is.” 

Half an hour’s row and Horace said: “That is the Creole , 
father, lying in there near the farther point.” 

“She doesn’t look as large as I expected, Horace, though 
her masts seem a great height.” 

“She is heavily sparred for her length,” Tarleton said, “but 
she has great beam; besides she is rather low in the water 
now, and of course that makes the spars look big in propor¬ 
tion. She will be a bit higher by the time we get out. Fifty 
men consume a considerable weight of stores and water every 
week. You will be pleased with her, sir, when we get along¬ 
side. We all think she is as handsome a craft as we ever set 
eyes on. She will astonish the Turks, I warrant, when it 
comes to sailing.” 

Another twenty minutes they were alongside. According 
tb naval etiquette Horace mounted the ladder first, then 
Tarleton, and Mr. Beveridge followed. Martyn and Miller 
received him at the gangway, the former introducing the first 
officer and the surgeon to him. 

“She is a fine-looking vessel,” Mr. Beveridge said, “and 
you have certainly done marvels with her, Captain Martyn, for 
my son wrote me that she had nothing but her lower masts in 
her when you took possession, and now she is wonderfully 
bright and clean, and these decks look almost too white to 
walk on.” 

“ I hope that we shall always keep her in equal order, sir. 
We have a capital crew, and no one could wish for a better 
craft under his feet.” 

Mr. Beveridge was now conducted round the ship, and ex¬ 
pressed himself highly gratified with everything. 

“Is it your wish that we should make sail at once, sir?” 



A DISCUSSION ABOUT CLOTHES 






















































































































































































































































































































* 

















































UNDER WEIGH 


113 


Martyn asked. “We have been expecting some heavy luggage 
on board, but it has not arrived.” 

“ I changed my mind about it, and there is nothing coming, 
Captain Martyn. I am perfectly ready to start if you have 
everything on board.” 

“There is nothing to wait for, sir; we are perfectly ready.” 

They returned to the quarter-deck, and as Martyn gave the 
orders there was a general movement on the part of the crew.. 
Some of the men clustered round the capstan, while others 
prepared to make sail, and Mr. Beveridge felt a keen sense of 
pleasure as he watched the active fellows at their work. In 
five minutes the sails were set, the anchor at the cat-head, and 
the Creole moving through the water under the light breeze 
off shore. 

They had favourable winds across the Bay and down the 
coast of Portugal. Everything from the start had gone as 
smoothly as if the Creole had been six months in commission 
—officers and men were alike pleased with the ship; the pro¬ 
visions for the sailors were of the best quality; the duties were 
very light, for the sails had riot required altering from the 
time they had been set, although each day the men practised 
for an hour at lowering and setting them, in order to accus¬ 
tom them to work smartly together. 

There was half an hour’s Cutlass drill, and for the rest of 
the day, beyond cleaning and polishing, there was nothing to 
be done. Mr. Beveridge spent the greater part of his time in 
a comfortable deck-chair on the quarter-deck, for there was 
no poop, the deck being flush from end to end. Horace 
attended to his duties as third officer regularly, and the nights 
were so warm and pleasant that the watches did not appear 
long to him. There was no stiffness in the cabin when they 
gathered to their meals, or in the evening, and Mr. Beveridge 
proved in no way a wet blanket on their fun, as the three 
officers had rather anticipated he would be. He talked but 
little, but was thoroughly amused at their yarns and jests, all 
of which were as strange to him as if he had lived in another 
world. 


114 


IN GREEK WATERS 


“You will certainly have to cut off our rations a bit, Mr. 
Beveridge,” Will Martyn said one day as they finished dinner. 
“We shall be getting as fat as porpoises if we go on like this. 

I can feel my togs filling out daily; and as for Tarleton, he 
will have to have all his things let out by the time we arrive 
in the Levant. For the credit of the ship I shall have to give 
orders for us to be supplied with the same rations as the men, 
and go in for luxuries only on Sundays. We are not accus¬ 
tomed to be tempted in this way at every meal. It is all very 
well for you who do not eat much more than a sparrow to have 
such nice things always put before you; but to us who have 
been accustomed to a steady diet of salt junk, except when we 
put into port and are able to get fresh meat for a change, these 
things are beyond our power of resistance.” 

“I eat a great deal more than I did on shore,” Mr. Bever¬ 
idge said. “ I find, indeed, a wonderful improvement in my 
appetite. It was quite an infliction to Zaimes that I cared so 
little for the good things he provided me with. I can assure 
you I really begin to look for my meals now, and it is a 
pleasure for me to see you all eat with good healthy appetites, 
and I am sure that it must be a great gratification to the 
Greeks to see their efforts appreciated at last.” 

“It is Tarleton I am thinking of principally, sir; as for 
Miller, nature made him square, and it would be no disad¬ 
vantage if he became round; while as to the doctor, food is 
simply wasted on him, he will never do credit to your cooks. 
But Tarleton, with those dark eyes of his and his gentle sort 
of way, was what the ladies would consider an interesting 
youth, and he would, I am sure, forfeit the good opinion of 
the ladies altogether if he were to return looking like a mildly 
animated sausage.” 

Tarleton joined in the laugh. “ I do think I have gained 
a lot in weight the last week,” he said; “but we won’t always 
go on in this quiet sort of way. As for what Martyn says, I 
believe it is only jealousy on his part at seeing that my angles 
are filling out.” 


UNDER WEIGH 


115 


On arriving at the Straits they put in at Ceuta and obtained 
a supply of fresh meat and vegetables. In the Mediterranean 
they fell in with dead calms and were a fortnight in getting to 
Gozo, where they again replenished their stock. They ab¬ 
stained from putting in either at Gibraltar or Malta in order 
to avoid being questioned as to the cargo and destination of 
the Creole. 

“Now, sir,” Will Martyn said when they were within two 
days’ sail of Greece, “ it is quite time to decide what port we 
shall make for, but we can’t decide that until we know how 
matters are going on. When we left England there were very 
conflicting accounts of the progress of the revolution, and 
whether Corinth, Patras, Nauplia, or Athens are in the hands 
of the Greeks or Turks. Well, I should say, sir, that our best 
plan would be to put in at Zante, where, as it is English, and 
therefore neutral ground, we shall learn all about the state of 
affairs, and may meet some of our own people or foreigners 
who have been fighting by the side of the Greeks. Half an 
hour’s talk with one of them would give us a better idea how 
everything stands than a week’s talk with Greeks.” 

“I think that will be a very good plan,” Mr. Beveridge 
agreed. “ Flying the English flag we might go in or out of 
any of the harbours as neutrals; but if by any chance it leaked 
out what our cargo is the Turks would probably consider 
themselves justified in laying hands on us.” 

“At any rate it is well not to run the risk, Mr. Beveridge, 
as there is no object to be served by it. I will take the 
bearings of Zante and lay our course for it.” 

There was, indeed, no spot where they were more likely to 
obtain accurate news of what was going on than Zante, lying 
as the island does at a short distance from the mouth of the 
Gulf of Corinth, upon which were three of the most important 
towns in Greece—Patras, Corinth, and Missolonghi. Here, 
too, the fugitives from the Morea, of either party, would 
naturally make their way. 

It was the 8th of October when the Creole , flying the Eng- 


116 


IN GREEK WATERS 


lish flag at her peak, dropped anchor in the port. As soon 
as she did so a custom-house officer came on board. 

“ What ship is this?” he asked the first officer, who was on 
deck. 

“This is the Creole, a private yacht belonging to Mr. Bever¬ 
idge. The owner is below if you wish to see him.” 

“You have no merchandise on board?” 

“I tell you that it is a'yacht,” Miller said. “An English 
gentleman doesn’t bring out merchandise for sale in his yacht. 
The captain will show you her papers.” 

Will Martyn came on deck. 

“This is the captain,” Miller said. “You had better ad¬ 
dress him.” 

On hearing what was required Martyn took the officer below 
and showed him the ship’s papers. 

“I see it is mentioned here that you were bound from Eng¬ 
land to Lisbon,” the officer observed. 

“Yes. We did not put in there, as Mr. Beveridge was 
anxious to get into a warmer climate.” 

“I see you are strongly armed,” the officer said when he 
came on to deck again, for after leaving Malta the eight 
twelve-pounders and the pivot-gun had been got up from the 
hold and mounted. 

“Yes, we are armed, as you see. I imagine you would 
hardly recommend anyone to be cruising about in these waters 
without means of defence.” 

“No, indeed,” the officer laughed. “The Greeks are pi¬ 
rates to the core. You would be all right with the Turks, 
although from your appearance I should not think they would 
ever get near enough to trouble you.” 

Half an hour later Mr. Beveridge and Horace were rowed 
ashore. As, except at Ceuta, Horace had never set foot 
ashore out of England, he was much amused and interested 
by the varied population. Mingled with the native popula¬ 
tion of the island were Greeks from the mainland; Albanians 
in their white pleated petticoats, bristling with arms mounted 


UNDER WEIGH 


117 


in gold and silver; a few English soldiers walking about as 
unconcernedly as if in a garrison town at home; and sailors 
of several nationalities from ships in harbour. 

“ I should think, father, the proper thing would be to call 
upon the English officer in command here and invite him to 
dinner. We shall get a general idea of the state of things from 
him.” 

Asking a soldier, they found that the small detachment 
there was under the command of Captain O’Grady, whose 
house, at the entrance to the barrack, was pointed out to them. 
The officer was in, and on Mr. Beveridge sending in his card 
they were at once shown in. 

“I am the owner of a schooner-yacht, the Creole , that 
dropped anchor an hour ago,” Mr. Beveridge said. “I know 
very little about the etiquette of these things, but it seemed 
to me the proper thing was to call at once upon His Majesty’s 
representative here.” 

“ A very right and proper thing to do, Mr. Beveridge. I 
have been w r ondering what that craft could be, and where she 
had come from. If it hadn’t been for the flag and the tidi¬ 
ness of her I should have put her down as a Greek pirate, 
though they don’t often rig up their crafts as schooners.” 

“She has been something like a pirate in her time,” Mr. 
Beveridge said, “ for she was a slaver, captured and sent home 
as a prize. I bought her at Plymouth and fitted her out.” 

“And a mighty nice way of spending money too, Mr. Bever¬ 
idge. She is the biggest thing in the way of yachts I ever 
saw. I don’t at all see why a gentleman shouldn’t buy a big. 
ship and cruise about the world in her if he can afford it.” 

“Well, Captain O’Grady, I won’t occupy your time now, 
but shall be glad if you will come off and dine with me at six 
o’clock to-day. I have come straight from England, and 
have heard nothing as to how matters stand out here. If you 
will bring any of your officers off with you I shall be very glad 
to see them.” 

“I have only two here. Mr. Lester, my lieutenant, will be 


118 


IN GREEK WATERS 


on duty, and I have no doubt that Plunket will be very glad 
to come off with me if he has no special engagement, which 
is-not likely, for it is a mighty dull life here, I can tell you, 
and it is glad I shall be when the order comes to rejoin the 
regiment at Corfu.” 

Mr. Beveridge and Horace walked about for some time, 
and then returned on board. They met their two Greeks in 
the town shopping, and told them that there would be guests 
at dinner. They met also Will Martyn and Tarleton, who had 
come ashore a short time after them, Miller remaining on 
board in charge; a good many of the men were also ashore. 

“ I have warned them solemnly,” Martyn said, “against 
drink and quarrels, but I am afraid that to-night and to¬ 
morrow night we shall have a good many of them coming off 
noisy. Wine is cheap, and as they haven’t set foot ashore for 
five'weeks it is not in the nature of an English sailor to resist 
temptation. I don’t care much as long as they don’t get into 
rows with the Greeks. I have told them the boats will be 
ashore at nine o’clock to fetch them, and that any who are 
not down there by that hour will have their allowance of grog 
stopped for a fortnight.” 

It had been arranged with Captain O’Grady that the boat 
should be at the steps for him at a quarter to six. Horace 
went in charge of it, and brought off the two officers. 

“You have comfortable quarters here, indeed,” Captain 
O’Grady said when Mr. Beveridge had introduced his officers 
to him and his companion. “ Sure I would like nothing bet¬ 
ter than to travel about in a craft like this. It is like taking 
a floating palace about with you.” But if the officers were 
surprised at the fittings of the cabin they were still more so 
at the excellence of the dinner. Up to the time the dessert 
was placed on the table they chatted as to the incidents of the 
voyage; but when the wine had gone round Mr. Beveridge 
began questioning them. 

“ Of course you hear everything that goes on on the main¬ 
land, Captain O’Grady.” 


UNDER WEIGH 


119 


“Everything, do you say? It is well content I would be if 
that was all I heard; but the thundering lies that are told by 
those Greek rapscallions are enough to take one’s breath 
away. To hear them talk you would not think that such 
valiant men had ever lived since the days of Noah; and yet, 
with the exception of a little skirmish, all that they have done 
is to starve out those unfortunate heathens the Turks, and 
then after they have surrendered on promise of good treat¬ 
ment, to murder them in cold blood with their women and 
children.” 

“I hope that there has not been much of that,” Mr. Bever¬ 
idge said gravely. 

“ It depends upon what you call much of it. At the very 
lowest estimate there have been thirty thousand murdered in 
cold blood since the troubles began; and some accounts put 
it much higher. There has not been a single exception; 
nowhere have they spared a Mussulman. The poor beggars 
of farmers and villagers were killed; man, woman, and child, 
in hundreds of villages the whole of them were destroyed 
without resistance; and it has been the same in all the large 
towns. The Greeks began the work at Kalamata, which sur¬ 
rendered under a solemn promise of their lives to the Turks; 
but every soul was slain. And so it has been all along. In 
the district of Laconia there were fifteen thousand Mussul¬ 
mans, and of these two-thirds at least were slain. At Misso- 
longhi there are not twenty Turks alive. 

“At Navarino every soul was murdered. Tripolitza sur¬ 
rendered only a week ago, and I saw by a letter from Colonel 
Raybonde, a French officer, who commanded the Greek 
artillery during the siege, that forty-eight hours after they 
entered the city they collected about two thousand persons, 
principally women and children, and drove them up a ravine 
and murdered them there; and altogether eight thousand 
Mussulmans were killed during the sack. I have heard of 
massacres till I am sick of listening to the stories; and though 
at the beginning I hoped that the Greeks would drive the old 


20 


IN GREEK WATERS 


Turks out, faith I have come to think that if I were to hear 
that the whole race were utterly exterminated I should feel 
more comfortable in my mind than I have been for some time. 
Not content with murdering the poor creatures, in many cases 
the villains tortured them first. I have heard fellows who 
came over here boast of it. One Albanian ruffian who told 
me that he had done this, told me, sir, as if it were a thing to 
be proud of. I had the satisfaction of taking him by the scruff 
of his neck, and the tail of his white petticoat and chucking 
him off the pier into the sea. When he scrambled out I offered 
him the satisfaction of a gentleman, seeing that he was a chief 
who thought no small beer of himself. There was a deal of 
difficulty in explaining to him how the thing was managed in 
a civilized country, and I never felt more satisfaction in my 
life than I did next morning when I put a bullet into the 
scoundrel’s body.” 

A wet blanket seemed suddenly to fall over the party in the 
cabin as Captain O’Grady was speaking. Horace saw that 
Miller, who was sitting opposite to him, was undergoing an 
internal convulsion in restraining himself from bursting into 
a laugh; and Will Martyn, who was facing Mr. Beveridge at 
the bottom of the table, looked so preternaturally grave that 
Horace felt that he too was struggling to repress a smile. 
The doctor nodded, as if to signify that it was exactly what 
he had expected. Mr. Beveridge looked deeply concerned. 

“ I have heard something of this in England, Captain 
O Grady, though of course the Greek agents there suppress 
all news that would tell against their countrymen, but I did 
not think it was as bad as this. Yet although I do not for a 
moment attempt to defend such atrocities, you nfust remem¬ 
ber how long the Greeks have been oppressed by the Turks. 
A people who have been in slavery for hundreds of years to 
strangers, aliens in blood and in religion, and themselves in 
a very .primitive state of civilization, except in the cities, 
would be almost certain in the first rising against their 
oppressors to commit horrible excesses. The same thin<* 


UNDER WEIGH 


121 


happened, although, happily, on a much smaller scale, in your 
own country, Captain O’Grady, in *98, and that without a 
hundredth part of the excuse that the Greeks had.” 

“True for you, Mr. Beveridge,” Captain O’Grady admitted. 
“There’s no denying that you have turned the tables on me 
there. It is mighty difficult, as you say, to hold a savage 
peasantry in hand.” 

“It was the same thing in the French Revolution, 'lhat 
again was practically a revolt of slaves, and they behaved like 
fiends; and the number of persons murdered—men of their 
own race and religion, remember—was at least as great as 
that of those who have been massacred here. The revolt 
called the Jacquerie, in the middle ages, was equally ferocious, 
and the number of victims would probably have been as great 
had not the revolt been nipped in the bud. I regret deeply 
the conduct of the Greeks; but I think it was only what was 
to be expected from a people naturally fierce and revengeful 
under the circumstances.” 

“Maybe you are right, Mr. Beveridge, though I did not 
look at it in that light before.” 

“And who are their leaders now?” 

“Faith they are all leaders. One day one hears one man’s 
name mentioned, that is hard enough to crack one’s jaw; the 
next day he is upset and another has taken his place. Every 
dirty little chief of brigands sets himself up as a leader, and 
as they are about the only chaps who understand anything 
about fighting they come to the front. If they only spent a 
twentieth part of the time in preparing for war which they do 
in quarrelling among themselves as to their share of the spoil, 
it seems to me they would make a much better fight than they 
are likely to do. There is a fellow called Odysseus, which is 
their way of pronouncing Ulysses; he used to command the 
Mohammedan Albanians under Ali Pasha. Now he has turned 
round, and fights against his old master. He is one of the 
chief of them. Then there are Kolokotronis and Mavro- 
cordatos. I should say they are the two principal men just at 


122 


IN GREEK WATERS 


present. Then there is a chap called Prince Demetrius 
Hypsilantes. He is the brother of a fellow who got up the 
rising up in the north of the Danube, and pretends to be the 
head of all the Greeks. Demetrius says he is invested by his 
brother with a sort of viceroyalty over Greece, and wants to 
have it all his own way. Then there are the Greek bishops 
and priests. They are pretty well against all the rest, and 
want to keep the peasantry under their thumb. Then there 
are the primates; they have got a big lot of power,” 

“ Do you mean archbishops? ” Captain Martyn asked. 

“Not a bit of it. The primates are a sort of half-and-half 
officers. They are supposed to be chosen by the people of 
their own district, and of course they are always the big-wigs; 
the chaps with most power and influence. Once chosen they 
became Turkish officers, collected the taxes, and were each 
accountable for the money and for the doings of their district. 
Nicely they ground the people down and feathered their own 
nests. Naturally, when the Turks went they became the local 
leaders. The people had no one else to look to but them and 
the priests. In the Morea these two classes have all the power 
in their hands. North of that we don’t hear much of the 
primates. I don’t think they had any of them there. It’s 
the Albanians, and the Klephts, that is the brigands, and 
some of the fighting clans, such as the Suliots and the bands 
of armatoli, which are a sort of village militia, who are the 
backbone of the rising. 

“All the chiefs are jealous of each other, and if one fellow 
proposes a plan all the others differ from him; or if there is 
one of the big leaders there, and his plan is adopted, the 
others either march away to their homes or do what they can 
to prevent it from succeeding. The great thing with all the 
chiefs is to get spoil. The people are different; they really 
want to fight the Turks and to win their freedom; and it is 
because they see that not one of their leaders is honest, that 
their jealousies keep them from any common actions, and that 
they will not unite to form any central government, that the 


UNDER WEIGH 


123 


people have no confidence in them, but just follow one man 
until they get disgusted with him, and then go off to join 
another. 

“ Everything is wasted. The spoil they have taken has been 
enormous; but the people are little the better for it; it is all 
divided among the chiefs, and not a penny of it has gone 
to form a fund for defence. They have captured enormous 
quantities of ammunition, but they have fired it away like 
children, just to please themselves with the noise. At one 
place I was told by an Englishman who was there that the two 
million cartridges they captured were all wasted in what they 
called rejoicings in the course of three days. What they want 
is a big man—a fellow who will begin by hanging a hundred 
politicians, as many chiefs, bishops, and primates; who would 
organize first a government and then an army; and would insist 
that every halfpenny taken as spoil from the Turks should be 
paid into the public treasury. Then, sir, I believe that the 
Greeks would polish off these sleepy Turks in no time, with 
the advantage they have in knowing every foot of the moun¬ 
tains, in being as active as goats, and in possessing the idea 
that they are fighting for freedom. Mind I don’t say that the 
Turks will beat them even as they are. The Turkish pashas 
are as incapable as the Greek leaders. Their soldiers are 
good, but as the Greeks have no regular army, and no idea of 
standing up to fight fair, the Turks can’t get at them, and the 
Greeks can move about quickly and fall upon them at their 
own time; and besides they will bring them to a standstill by 
starvation. They don’t care about attacking the Turkish 
troops, but they are down like a pack of wolves on a baggage 
train, and if the Turks venture any distance from the sea-coast 
they will be harassed out of their lives.” 

“Have the Turks still the command of the sea? There the 
Greeks ought to be their match anyhow.” 

“ Yes, the Turks still send their store-ships escorted by their 
tnen-of-war frigates and corvettes. The Greeks hover round 
them and among them, but they take care to keep pretty well 


124 


IN GREEK WATERS 


out of range of the Turkish guns, and their only idea of fight¬ 
ing seems to be to launch fire-ships at them. A man-of-war 
was burnt while at anchor a short time back by Knaris, who 
is the best sailor the Greeks have got. Still, at present the 
Turks are so far masters of the sea that they take their convoys 
where they like and can revictual their fortresses whenever 
they have the energy to do so. On the other hand, the 
Greeks scour the seas in all directions, and not a single mer¬ 
chant ship flying the Turkish flag dare show her nose outside 
the Dardanelles.” 

“Is the cruelty all on one side?” Horace asked. 

“ Not a bit of it. Of course the Turks have not had much 
chance yet, but when they have had they have naturally paid 
the Greeks in their own coin. In Thessaly they have put 
down the rising ruthlessly. But when the troops go into a 
place and find that the whole of their people have been mur¬ 
dered it is not to be wondered at that they set to to play the 
same game on those who began the work of massacre. The 
Greeks hate the Turks, and their object is to root them out 
altogether. The Turks despise the Greeks, but they don’t 
want to root them out by any means, because if they did there 
would be no longer any revenue to collect. The Turks seem 
to strike more at the leaders. They have strung up a lot of 
Greeks living in Constantinople, and as the whole affair was 
got up there, and the Greeks were, most of them, taking the 
Sultan’s pay while they were plotting against him, it is only 
just that if anyone was to suffer they should be the men. 
What I am afraid of is that when the news of this horrible 
massacre of eight thousand people at Tripolitza gets known, 
the Turks in Asia Minor will everywhere retaliate upon the 
Greeks settled among them. 

“They can’t do much in Greece, for most of the people can 
take to the mountains; but there are almost as many of them 
settled in Asia Minor as there are here, for they are the traders 
and shopkeepers in every port, and I am afraid it will go 
mighty hard with them everywhere when the Turks come to 


UNDER WEIGH 


125 


know the atrocities that have been perpetrated over here. If 
the Greeks had thought for a moment when they began they 
would have seen that it was a game two could play at, and for 
every Turk they could murder the Turks had in their hands 
three Greeks at least that they could put an end to. To my 
mind it is a bad business altogether. Plunket will tell you that 
I have not put it a bit too strongly.” 

“Not in the least,” the young officer said. “The tales 
these fellows tell are ghastly. We have them over here by 
dozens. A man is a leader one day and a fugitive the next; 
and they run over here till they see a chance of landing again 
and getting together a fresh band, and they actually make a 
boast of the horrible massacres they have taken a part in. If 
the islanders here saw their way to it they would rise against 
us, and as it is, it has been as much as we can do more than 
once to prevent their going on board neutral vessels that put 
into harbour with a few wretched Turkish fugitives, and mur¬ 
dering them. The fact is, the Greeks believe that they are 
Christians, but they are just as much pagans as they were two 
thousand years ago. My sympathies are altogether with them 
in their struggle for liberty, and I try to make every allowance 
for their actions; and I do believe that if what O’Grady says 
could be carried out and all their leaders, and politicians, 
and bishops, and primates hung, the people themselves would 
carry on the struggle with ten times the chances of success 
they have at present, for they would then be forced to form a 
strong central government and might find some honest man 
to put at its head. They regard it in the light of a religious 
war rather than one for national freedom, and I suppose that 
at least half the Mussulmans who have fallen are of Greek 
blood, for, especially in the north, nearly half the tribes have 
changed their religion and become Mohammedans since their 
conquest.” 

“ Are there many Europeans fighting with them ? You men¬ 
tioned a French colonel commanding the Greek artillery in 
the siege of Tripolitza.” 


126 


IN GREEK WATERS 


“A good many. There are some Austrians, Frenchmen, 
Italians, and a few of our own people. Among the last is a 
General Gordon and a naval lieutenant; but although the 
Greeks know nothing whatever of military matters, they are 
jealous in the extreme of any interference or even advice 
from foreigners. I believe there are altogether thirty or forty 
foreign officers who came over to fight for them, and only two 
or three of these have got employment of any sort. As to any 
attempt to introduce military discipline, or raise anything like 
a body of regular soldiers, it seems impossible. They believe 
entirely in fighting in their own way and dispersing when 
they choose, just as the Spanish guerilla bands did during the 
Peninsular War. In fact it seems to me that the Greek char¬ 
acter resembles the Spanish very much, the peasantry in both 
countries being brave and animated by a patriotic hate of 
their enemies, while the upper class are equally vain, cowardly, 
given to boasting, and absolutely faithless to their promises. 
If we had the Duke of Wellington here with a couple of hun¬ 
dred good officers he would make the Greeks into as good 
soldiers as he did some of the Portuguese, and would as likely 
as not wind up the war by driving the Turks out of Europe 
altogether.” 

At half-past ten o’clock the officers went ashore. When 
they had left the ship, the others returned to the cabin. 

“ I should not take it to heart, Mr. Beveridge,” Will Martyn 
said cheerfully, seeing how depressed his employer looked at 
the news he had heard. “ Of course the Greeks have behaved 
badly—horribly badly; but you see it is because the poor 
beggars are not much better than savages, and never will be 
better as long as they are kept down by the Turks. All these 
things will right themselves in time. As you said, they are 
no worse than the French when they rose, or than the Spanish 
peasantry whenever they got a chance, or the Irish peasantry, 
and we must not look at it from our own standpoint; once they 
are free they will get a settled government and become a 
nation again, and that is what we have got to help them to 


A CHANGE OF NAME 


127 


do. We are not going to land and take part in massacres. 
All we have got to do is to look out for a Turkish ship of war, 
and pull down her colours whenever we get a chance. But 
even more than that, what I want specially to do as soon as 
we can is to get rid of some of that cargo in our hold. That 
is what is bothering me at present.” 

“ Thank you, Martyn,” Mr. Beveridge said, holding out his 
hand to him. “ It is trying to hear of a glorious cause being 
disgraced by such horrible atrocities, but the cause remains 
the same, and the atrocities are, as you say, such as have 
occurred among other peoples when their blood has been 
heated to boiling point. This will not shake my determina¬ 
tion to aid Greece in her struggle for freedom.” 


CHAPTER VII 

A CHANGE OF NAME 

T HE next two days Mr. Beveridge and Horace spent entirely 
on shore. Speaking modern Greek fluently, they were 
able to converse with people of all classes from the mainland, 
and they learned from their reports that Captain O’Grady’s 
account of the utter confusion existing from end to end of the 
country was in no way exaggerated. As soon as the Greeks 
perceived that Mr. Beveridge was a well-wisher to their cause, 
and judging him from his possession of a large yacht to be a 
wealthy man, innumerable schemes were proposed to him, all 
involving his placing himself in the hands of the proposer and 
advancing him a considerable sum of money. These projects 
Mr. Beveridge resolutely turned a deaf ear to, his resolution 
being greatly strengthened by Horace, who distrusted all these 
plausible adventurers profoundly. 

“We must wait, father,” he said, “until we see something 



128 


IN GREEK WATERS 


like a stable government in power. When it has been at work 
a bit, and you find that it makes its authority respected, re¬ 
stores order, and unites the people in a common effort, it will 
be time enough for you to let them have money. To give it 
now would simply be to waste it, and, indeed, worse than 
waste it, for it would only add to the struggle for power on 
which the Greeks are wasting their strength. From all we 
learn the sailors of Hydra, Spetzas, and Psara are the only 
men who at present are acting with any common object. As 
everything depends upon crippling the Turks at sea, I should 
think we could not do better than get rid of some of our guns 
and ammunition by giving them to them. If we could get rid 
of twenty or thirty tons of our cargo it would put us in first- 
rate sailing trim, and at any rate get something off our minds. 
Then from there we could sail to Athens and get the papers 
we require authorizing us to act as a Greek privateer. Of 
course that would be no protection to us if we fell into the 
hands of the Turks; but we could do nothing until we get 
them without acting as pirates and rendering ourselves lia¬ 
ble to be hung by any European man-of-war that might over¬ 
haul us.” 

This course was determined upon, to the great satisfaction 
of William Martyn; and after a stay of three days at Zante 
sail was again set, and the Creole left the anchorage. It was 
well that she did so, for the next day all their Greek sympa¬ 
thies would have been insufficient to prevent their fighting on 
the other side. An Algerine barque that had separated from 
the Turkish fleet, which had just captured Galaxidhi and had 
taken possession of thirty-four Greek brigs, was attacked by 
eighteen Hydriot ships. She refused to surrender, and made 
such a gallant resistance that the Hydriots did not venture to 
run alongside and carry her by boarding. The Algerines, 
knowing that if their spars were shot away they would all be 
killed, ran her ashore near the southern cape of Zante. 

The fight had been witnessed by thousands of refugee 
Moreots and Zanteot peasants, who opened fire upon the 


A CHANGE OF NAME 


129 


Algerines when they landed. Two English officers with 
twenty men had gone down from the town to enforce obe¬ 
dience to the quarantine regulations, which were very strict. 
They ordered the Greeks to retire, but these refused, and 
continued to attack the Turks. The officer commanded his 
men to fire over the heads of the crowd, when the Zanteots 
at once turned their muskets against them. One soldier was 
killed, and the rest retired into a house with the Turks and 
defended themselves until a stronger body of English troops 
came down from the town and rescued them. For firing upon 
the troops and killing one of them five Zanteots were after¬ 
wards tried and executed, and the lord high-commissioner 
issued a proclamation forbidding the entry of any Turk or 
Greek men-of-war into any Ionian port. 

The Greek commercial navy, before the outbreak of the 
revolution, consisted to a large extent of the shipping of the 
four little islands Hydra, Spetzas, Psara, and Cazos. These 
islands, which were small and barren, had sprung into impor¬ 
tance by the wise policy of the sultans at the beginning of the 
eighteenth century. Seeing that the exactions of their own 
officials rendered it impossible for the Greek and Mussulman 
sailors to compete with those of other nations, they had ex¬ 
empted from all taxes and other burdens persons settling on 
these islands, and had allowed to them perfect self-govern¬ 
ment. The result had answered their expectations. Colonies 
of Albanian sailors had established themselves at Hydra and 
Spetzas, while Greek seamen had settled in Psara and Cazos, 
and all four islands became populous and flourishing, owning 
among them nearly three hundred craft of from sixty to four 
hundred tons. 

The contrast between the population and manners of the 
four islands was very marked. The two Albanian islands were 
governed by twelve primates, elected by the wealthy, while in 
the Greek islands the government was purely democratic. The 
Albanians were by far the more sincere and honest, while the 
people of the two Greek islands were the more courteous. All 


130 


IN GREEK WATERS 


had early thrown in their lot with the revolution. The Peace 
of 1815 had caused a great reduction in the price of grain on 
the Continent and a fall of freights. Consequently many ships 
remained unemployed, the prosperity of the islands dimin¬ 
ished, and the sailors became discontented and clamorous for 
employment. Spetzas had been the first to declare for the 
revolution, and had at once sent off some ships, which had 
captured a Turkish corvette of twenty-six guns and a brig of 
sixteen, which, with small crews, were waiting at Milos to 
receive the contingent of sailors from the Albanian islands. 
The Turks, expecting no attack, were taken by surprise; but 
the first Greek naval success was dimmed by the Mussulman 
prisoners being all carried to Spetzas, where some were at 
once murdered and the rest put to death with horrible tortures. 

Psara quickly followed the example of Spetzas, but Hydra 
was some time before it raised the Greek flag. The people 
were in favour of the revolution, but the wealthy ship-owners, 
who possessed all the power, were averse to fitting out their 
vessels for unprofitable service, and opposed the revolution 
until a popular insurrection broke out and their authority was 
set aside. The united fleet of the three islands, instead of 
attacking the Turkish fleet, which was occupied in conveying 
store-ships to the besieged garrisons, swept the seas of mer¬ 
chantmen, and attacked and plundered an Austrian vessel. 
Two Hydriot brigs captured a Turkish ship, with a very 
valuable cargo, carrying, among other passengers, a recently- 
deposed sheikh El-Islam, or Patriarch of the Mussulmans, and 
all his family. These and all on board were murdered by 
their captors; but the affair in the end benefited the Turks, 
for the captors refused to conform to the regulation that had 
been laid down, that all booty should be the common property 
of the fleet. Quarrels began between the sailors of the differ¬ 
ent islands, so that the fleet broke up, and was for a long 
time useless for any concerted action against the Turks. 

The Creole visited the three islands in succession, handing 
over to the authorities in each ten guns, with a considerable 


A CHANGE OF NAME 


131 


amount of powder and shot, a thousand muskets, and ten 
thousand rounds of ammunition. There was a large amount 
of shipping in each of the harbours, and Will Martyn had the 
Creole's guns all loaded and double shotted before entering. 

“There is no saying what these fellows may be up to,” he 
remarked to Horace. “Seeing us giving away so large a 
quantity of valuables, they may think that we have got a gold 
mine on board. I don’t mean to close an eye while we are in 
harbour, I can tell you.” 

Mr. Beveridge, personally, was received with much honour 
at these islands, and the guns, which Will Martyn had taken 
care should be the largest of those in the hold, were dragged 
up by the people and placed in the batteries. 

The Creole then crossed to the Piraeus. The Acropolis of 
Athens was still held by the Turks, who were closely besieged 
there. Will Martyn landed with Mr. Beveridge. Horace told 
his father that he would rather not accompany him. 

“You will be going about and seeing people, father,” he 
said, “ and, as you say, you may have to go to other places to 
find some of the nominal authorities to sign documents, and 
so on, authorizing us to hoist the Greek flag, and giving us the 
usual papers carried by privateers. This may take time, for 
you and Martyn think that as the Greeks themselves have no 
such formalities, but fight the Turks just as they find them, it 
may be difficult for you to persuade them that letters of marque 
are really required authorizing the vessel, as a Greek ship, to 
capture, burn, and destroy all Turkish vessels she may meet.” 

“It is a mere formality, Horace.” 

“Well, father, I don’t think that Martyn or the others look 
at it at all in that light, and I know they consider it absolutely 
necessary that we should have papers of that sort. Even with 
such papers they say they expect there will be a lot of diffi¬ 
culty, if they take any prizes, in disposing of them, and that, 
unless they have papers signed by the central government, the 
chances are that the moment a Turkish prize is brought into 
port, the Greeks will seize it as public property, and want to 


132 


IN GREEK WATERS 


cut the throats of any Turks prisoners. Certainly we should 
not stand that, and we should be in the position of having to 
fight the Turks at sea and the Greeks in port. So I should not 
be surprised at all if jou are ten days, or a fortnight, before 
you can get all the ^papers you want. Of course Marty n’s 
signature will be necessary to all sorts of things, and as there 
is no humbugging him he will be wonderfully useful to you in 
all sorts of ways.” 

“But why should you not go with us too, Horace? ” 

“I would very much rather not, father. Of course I am 
quite with you in wishing to see Greece independent, but I 
am so disgusted with all these stories of the horrible atrocities 
they have been guilty of, and at the way in which, instead of 
joining together to fight the Turks, they are all bent only on 
getting power or spoil, and of behaving more like a collection 
of bands of brigands than a united people, that I would rather 
not see any more of them at present, or I shall get regularly 
to hate them. In a short time, I have no doubt, we shall 
hear of a lot of things done by the other side. We may be 
sure that the Turks will avenge the eight thousand Mussulmans 
who were murdered at Tripolitza. We heard at Zante that 
they had begun it, and then one thing will balance the other 
and, I may get enthusiastic about the Greeks again; but at 
present, father, what I should like to see is this, that the 
Creole should be employed as a rescue ship.” 

“How do you mean, Horace? ” 

“ I mean, father, that we should try to save as many of these 
wretched Turks, and their women and children, from massacre 
as we can; and on the other hand, that we*should try to save 
as many Greeks as possible from the vengeance of the Turks. 
There ought, to be lots of opportunities both ways. If we are 
with the Greeks when they capture a Turkish vessel we can buy 
off the prisoners. The Greeks are fonder of money than even 
of blood, and the money will be a deal better spent that way 
than if wasted among the politicians, the captains of brigands, 
or primates, and would do good to the cause of Greece by 


A CHANGE OF NAME 


133 


saving it from dishonour. When the Greeks make a descent 
upon a Turkish island we could send our boats ashore and 
take off a lot of the inhabitants, and we could do the same 
thing when the Turks attack a Greek place or island; and if 
either Greeks or Turks interfere with us at the work, I should 
say let us thrash them whoever they are. I consider that 
would be a glorious mission, and would be a credit to the flag 
we fly whether it is Greek or English; and if I were you I 
should speak out to Kolokotronis, or any other leader you may 
meet, and tell him frankly that you have come out to help the 
Greeks with arms and money, but that these massacres will 
turn all Europe against them; and that unless you are provided 
with an authority to take and hold all Turkish prisoners, and 
to protect them both from the populace and the sailors, you 
will withdraw altogether, and will do your best to prevent 
such atrocities, even if it comes tp £ring upon Greek vessels 
engaged in them.” X. 

“ I will do so, Hbracie^” his father said in a tone of decis¬ 
ion. “We are a match, I fancy, for half a dozen of the 
Greek ships. They will find us a very different vessel to deal 
with than those slow-sailing Turks. I quite approve of what 
you say. For the first outburst of vengeance when they rose 
I am willing to make every allowance; but the revenge taken 
by the Turks at Kydonia should have reminded them that there 
are at least a million of their fellow-countrymen in Asia Minor 
whose lives have been endangered by their atrocities. Hence¬ 
forth I will, as you propose, devote myself to saving life, and 
part of the money that I had intended for the Greeks shall go 
to make up to the crew for any loss they may sustain by miss¬ 
ing the chance of taking prizes. I will hoist the Greek flag 
as I intended, and we, at least, will keep it unsullied.” 

Horace repeated the substance of the conversation to Will 
Martyn and the other two officers, who cordially agreed; for 
although they had, of course, heard less at Zante of the details 
of the massacres than their employer and his son had done, 
they had heard enough to fill them with indignation, and to 
disgust them with the cause that they had come out to defend. 


134 


IN GREEK WATERS 


“That will be first-rate,” Martyn said, “and I can foresee 
we shall have lots of fun, and are likely to end by fighting 
both parties. There will be plenty for us to do. We will 
see if we can’t cut off some of the Turkish vessels laden with 
Greek captives for sale as slaves in the markets of Alexandria; 
while, as for the Greeks, if we slip in and save their captives 
they will be like a pack of wolves after their prey. If I am 
to go with your father, Horace, you may be sure I will take 
any opportunity I may get of speaking out, and I reckon I 
will open the eyes of some of these Greek swells by the way I 
will give it them. I tell you what, Miller: While I am away 
do you get up eight of those eighteen-pounders from the hold 
and mount them instead of the twelves. Now that she has got 
so much of her weight out of her she can carry them well 
enough, and I fancy we are likely to want as heavy metal as 
we can mount before we have done.” 

At dinner that day Horace said: “Are you thinking of 
changing her name, father, when you change your nation¬ 
ality?” 

“I wasn’t thinking of changing her name at all, Horace ,” m 
Mr. Beveridge said in surprise. 

“Well, I thought, father, the Greeks wouldn’t understand 
the name of the Creole at all. It was a good name for a slaver 
and did well enough for a yacht, and if we ever take her back 
to England I should like her to be the Creole; but I think it 
would be better to have some name that the Greeks will un¬ 
derstand.” 

“What name would you propose, Horace?” 

“Well, father, I have been thinking of it, and if you have 
no objection I should like to call her the Misericordia , ‘ the 
Pity.’ We came out here because we pitied the Greeks, and 
now we pity the unfortunate people, both Turks and Greeks, 
and you have agreed that our mission shall be to save both of 
them from slaughter.” 

“I think it would be a very good name, Horace. The 
Misericordia it shall be. What do you say, Captain Martyn? ” 


A CHANGE OF NAME 


135 


“I think it would be a capital name, Mr. Beveridge,” 
Martyn said, “ and the crew will fight all the better when they 
know what the name means and what we intend to do. Sailors 
have no particular love for the Greeks—they always regard 
them as treacherous beggars; and they have no particular 
hostility against the Turks, who fought pluckily enough on 
our side in Egypt, and have always been friendly with us. I 
am sure that when our fellows understand that what we are 
going in for is to save women and children from being mur¬ 
dered, whether they happen to be Greeks or Turks, you will 
find them ready to do anything.” 

The next day Mr. Beveridge and Will Martyn landed, and 
Miller set the crew at work to mount eighteen-pounders in 
place of the twelves, and to get the ammunition for them into 
the fighting magazines in place of that of lighter calibre. 
Zaimes had accompanied Mr. Beveridge. Marco remained 
on board, but had leave every morning to go on shore the first 
thing after breakfast, and to remain there until late in the 
afternoon, when he came off in time for dinner. He brought 
news that it was believed the Turks in the Acropolis could not 
hold out much longer, as their provisions were running very 
short. After an absence of ten days the party on shore re¬ 
turned, and an hour after they did so the English flag was 
lowered and that of Greece was hoisted, while a flag with the 
word Misericordia replaced that of Creole at the masthead. 
Captain Martyn called the crew together. 

“My lads,” he said, “you all knew that when we arrived 
here we were going to hoist the Greek flag instead of our own, 
and that we were going to act as a Greek privateer against the 
Turks. That, you see, is done, and we are authorized by the 
Greek government to capture or destroy any Turkish vessels 
we may meet. You see we have changed her name, and I 
will tell you why Mr. Beveridge has done this. We are going 
to fight for Greece, but at the same time, as British sailors, 
we are not going to stand by and see men, women, and chil¬ 
dren murdered in cold blood, whether they are lurks or any- 


136 


IN GREEK WATERS 


one else. There has been a great deal too much of this sort 
of thing done on both sides, and we mean to stop it as much 
as we can. We are going to prevent the massacre of Greeks 
by Turks, and I hope we shall manage to lay hands on some 
of the Turkish vessels carrying Greek women and children 
captive to sell them as slaves; but on the other hand we in¬ 
tend to save as many Turks as we can from being massacred 
by the Greeks, and that is the reason why Mr. Beveridge has 
renamed his craft the Misericordia , which means The Pity.’ 
I am sure, my lads, that there is not a British sailor who 
would not risk his life to save those of women and children, 
and that is what we mean to make our first object, although 
we hope to lower some Turkish flags before we have done with 
them; but in any case we mean to save life whether it is Greek 
or Turk we have to fight in doing so. It is a work, my lads, 
in which we may all be proud to take part, and in which, 
whether we fight under the English flag or the Greek, we shall 
be doing a duty dear to every British sailor. Now, my lads, 
we will give three cheers for the Misericordia .” 

Three hearty cheers rang out from the sailors. They had 
all been on shore at Zante, and had heard enough from the 
soldiers they fraternized with there to fill them with disgust 
and indignation at the conduct of the Greeks, and this an¬ 
nouncement that they would henceforth put a stop to such 
cruelty, even if they had to fight for it, filled them with 
satisfaction. 

“We had hard work of it,” Martyn said to Horace, talking 
over his visit ashore. “ In the first place they wanted us to 
hand over all prisoners we took, and half the plunder and 
value of the prizes, to their miserable government. We told 
them that we would see them at the bottom of the sea first. I 
was with your father at a meeting with the fellows they call 
Kolokotronis and Odysseus, and half a dozen other of their 
leaders, and you should have seen how your father spoke out. 
He got upon his legs and he just poured it out. I did not 
know, of course, what he was saying, but he told me a little 


A CHANGE OF NAME 


137 


about it afterwards, and I could see by their faces that it was 
hot and strong. 

“ He told them that their countrymen had disgraced their 
cause by conduct worthy only of the lowest savages, and that 
if they did not give him the authority he demanded, to inter¬ 
pose to save Turks from massacre, he would sail on to Con¬ 
stantinople, hoist the Turkish flag, and fight against the ships 
that behaved like bloodthirsty pirates rather than Greek 
patriots, and that they would find his ship a very different 
opponent to the Turks. I did not think your father had it in 
him. It was splendid, I can tell you, and the faces of those 
fellows were worth seeing. I don’t expect they ever had such 
a straight talking to before. I believe altogether he spent 
about a thousand pounds in bribing a dozen of them; anyhow 
he got what he wanted. In the first place we are authorized 
to hoist the Greek flag, and to capture and destroy Turkish 
vessels; and in the second, to dispose as we please of all 
prisoners. We may take on board Turkish fugitives and dis¬ 
pose of them at our pleasure, free from all interference from 
any Greek authorities or Greek ships. We are to pay a quar¬ 
ter of the value of all prizes and booty into the treasury of the 
central government, and are to send ashore to-morrow five 
thousand muskets and twenty rounds of ammunition for each. 

“Your father has had a hard time of it. I don’t believe 
there has been a single Greek politician or leader who hasn’t 
called upon him privately, to what they call borrow money 
from him. At last I had to regularly mount guard over him 
and set Zaimes at his door to tell all comers that he was too 
unwell to see anyone, which was not far from the truth, for he 
was regularly upset at the meanness and trickery of the people 
he had come to spend his fortune to assist. However, thank 
goodness it is all over. I am precious glad that I am back, I 
can tell you, for I believe if I had stayed there much longer 
I should not have been able to have prevented myself from 
walking into some of them. Your father has been trying to 
find out whether they have got any general plan of defence; 


138 


IN GREEK WATERS 


but they have no more plan than a lot of children would have 
if they got up a rebellion. Everyone wants to be a leader; 
everyone complains of everyone else. They scarcely seem to 
give the Turks a thought. All their energies are occupied 
by their own miserable squabbles and rivalry. Well, I don’t 
want to set loot on shore again as long as we are out here, 
unless it is on some real expedition.” 

“What about the Turks in the Acropolis, Martyn?” 

“They are negotiating, but the poor beggars know there is 
no faith to be placed in the Greeks, and that so far there is 
not a single instance in which they have kept their promises 
for the safety of garrisons who have surrendered. They want 
the guarantee of the European consuls for their safety, but 
they can’t give it, as they have no force here to protect them. 
I told our consul that we would lend him the whole of our crew 
if he liked, and that I thought we could pretty well clear out 
the town; but he said that that would be well enough if there 
was no one to protect. But that as there are something like 
two thousand men, women, and children up in the citadel, 
fifty men could never protect them against the mob. How¬ 
ever, I hope the Turks will be able to hold out for some time 
yet. The Greeks only guess that their provisions are running 
short, and if a man-of-war, French, or English, or Austrian, 
comes into the harbour the consuls will ask its commander to 
protect the Turks, and will then guarantee their safety.” 

“When are we going to sail? ” Horace asked. 

“To-morrow. The two Greeks will go ashore th^ first thing 
in the morning to lay in a fresh stock of meat a jles. 

As jspon asall are on board we will get up anch, I have 
heard lots of shocking stories on shore from Greeks who have 
escaped from Asia Minor and the Turkish islands. There 
have been massacres in almost every city where there were 
Greeks; at Smyrna, Adrianople, Salonika, Cos, Rhodes, in 
Crete and Cyprus, and as far as I can hear the Turks have 
altogether massacred nearly as many men, women, and chil¬ 
dren as the Greeks have done. I saw General Gordon, who 


A CHANGE OF NAME 


139 


is a warm friend of the Greeks, and he said that it was impos¬ 
sible to justify the ferocity of the Greeks, or to deny that a 
comparison between them and the Turks would give the latter 
the palm of humanity; that is, if the term humanity could be 
employed to either. 

“We went up and saw some of the troops, as they call them, 
active, hardy-looking fellows. They seem in earnest enough, 
and are ready, as a French officer said to me, to submit to 
anything but discipline. He said that the Klephts and ar- 
matoli are as fine material for mountain warfare as one could 
wish to see; one day honest, hard-working peasants, the next 
engaged in partisan war, or in raids on their neighbours; 
frugal, hardy, active, and in their way brave; men who would 
never storm a position or stand against the attack of Turkish 
infantry or cavalry, as the war has everywhere shown so far; 
but who would defend a hillside or hold a ravine against good 
troops, and when driven out, make another stand at the first 
position they came to. Anyhow they are worth a lot more 
than the townspeople, who brag and vapour and go about 
armed to the teeth, but who take precious good care never to 
get within range of a Turkish musket.” 

Early the next morning some large boats came off, and the 
muskets and ammunition were transferred to them, and at noon 
the two Greeks brought off a boat-load of fresh meat, vegeta¬ 
bles, fowls, eggs, fruit, and other stores. As soon as these 
were slung on board, the anchor was got up, and the Miseri- 
cordia , unTer a gentle breeze, stole out to sea. 

“That/ .^fitter, Miller,” Will Martyn said as he looked 
over the .xdre. “ She has not gone like that since we shook 
out our sails for the first time. I should say she is just about 
in her right trim now, and is ready to fight or sail anything of 
her size afloat. How easily she goes through the water. 
There is scarcely a ripple in her wake. She is a beauty.” 

“Which port now, Martyn? ” 

“I was talking it over last night with Mr. Beveridge, and as 
soon as we get well off land I am going to shape a course that 


140 


IN GREEK WATERS 


will take us down between Cyprus and Alexandria. It is of no 
use cruising about here. The Turks only move about under a 
convoy of their men-of-war, and it would not be much better 
across on the other side, for the Greek vessels are everywhere 
on the look-out. But they don’t like going far from home, 
and if we cruise well to the south we shall have a good chance 
of falling in with craft bound for Alexandria from Cyprus, 
Crete, and Syria, and any or all of them will be likely to be 
carrying Greeks captives to the slave-markets at Alexandria, 
Tunis, or Tripoli.” 

“Those are the sort of craft to meet with,” Miller said. 
“ I suppose they are sure to be armed. Of course one would 
be glad to rescue captives and save them from their horrible 
fate. But there will be much more satisfaction in doing it if 
we have a bit of a fight first.” 

“Yes, I should say they were certain to be armed. No Turk 
would venture to sea at present unless he thought himself strong 
enough to beat off the attack of at least two or three of these 
Greek vessels. After cruising about for a bit we intend to 
dodge about Cyprus and the other Turkish islands, keeping 
near the coast so as to give Greek fugitives a chance of com¬ 
ing on board. We know that there have been massacres at 
all these islands, and may be again, and there must be thou¬ 
sands of unfortunate creatures who would give anything for 
such a chance of getting away. We can anchor in quiet bays, 
for we need have no fear of any boat attack; and if the Turks 
come out in force we have always the option of running away 
or fighting.” 

“That is a very good programme, Martyn. We are not 
likely, as you say, to find any Greek craft cruising about 
between Cyprus and Alexandria. Turkish vessels going up 
towards the Dardanelles, or coming down from there, are 
prizes worth taking, for they may have pashas and rich officials 
onboard; but down there they would be less likely to have 
anything that would repay the Greeks for the risks of a fight. 
As for risking anything to save their countrymen, Mr. Bever- 


A CHANGE OF NAME 


141 


idge was saying he heard that at the massacre of the Greeks 
at Kydonia, although the Greek fleet, under Tombazes, was 
close at hand, and their launches went on shore and rescued 
four thousand of their countrymen, they compelled them all 
to purchase their passage to the nearest Greek island by giv¬ 
ing up the greater part of the property they had saved.” 

“ Brutes! ” Martyn exclaimed with great emphasis. “ How 
these fellows can be descendants of the old Greeks beats me 
altogether.” 

“The old Greeks were pretty cruel,” Horace, who had just 
joined them, said. “They used to slaughter their captives 
wholesale, and mercy wasn’t among their virtues. Besides, 
my father says that except in the Morea very few indeed are 
descendants of the Greeks; the rest are Bulgarian or Albanian, 
neither of whom the Greeks of old would have recognized as 
kinsmen.” 

“ It is a case of distance lending enchantment to the view,” 
Miller laughed; “our illusions are gone.” 

“Never mind, we must make the best of them, Miller; 
they are not Greeks, but at any rate they are all that is left of 
the Greeks. Their actions show that their Christianity is a 
sham, but at the same time they are an intelligent race capa¬ 
ble of some day becoming a great people again, and they are 
struggling to throw off the yoke of a race intellectually their 
inferiors and incapable of progress in any sort of way. That 
is what my father said to me as we were walking up and down 
the deck this morning. That is the light I mean to look at 
it in the future. It is a capable people struggling with an 
incapable one, and if they are savage and vindictive and de¬ 
based it is the faults not of themselves but of those who have 
so long been their masters.” 

“Good,” Martyn said; “that is the most satisfactory view 
of the thing, and we will stick to it and shut our ears as much 
as possible in future against all stories to the Greeks’ disad¬ 
vantage.” 

In the afternoon a fleet of vessels were seen standing out 
from the land. 


142 


IN GREEK WATERS 


“There is one of the Greek fleets,” Captain Martyn said. 
“ Now we will try her rate of sailing with them. Stand on for 
a little bit longer and then haul her wind on the same tack 
they are sailing.” 

The trial was perfectly satisfactory. By nightfall the Greek 
fleet were far behind, and the Misericordia again shaped her 
course for Cyprus. For a week they cruised backwards and 
forwards under easy sail about midway between Cyprus and 
Alexandria, without meeting with a single craft flying the 
Turkish flag. Half a dozen vessels were overhauled, but 
these were all Austrian, Italian, or British. The appearance 
of the schooner evidently excited profound distrust in the 
minds of the masters of all these vessels, for they all hoisted 
every rag of sail they could set and did their best to escape 
from her, but Captain Martyn had no difficulty in overhaul¬ 
ing them and satisfying himself of their nationality. The 
astonishment of the masters when the smart gig manned by six 
English sailors rowed alongside was unbounded, and was only 
equalled by their satisfaction. 

“You have given us a nice fright,” the master of one of the 
English ships said to Miller, who, accompanied by Horace, 
had boarded him. “What on earth are you flying that Greek 
flag for? We took you for a pirate, for half these fellows are 
no better when they get the chance.” 

“We are a Greek privateer,” Miller said, “and carry letters 
of marque issued by the Greek government. We only wanted 
to assure ourselves that you were not Turks.” 

“Turks be jiggered!” the master said angrily. “I should 
have thought anyone with half an eye could have seen that we 
weren’t one of those lubberly Turks.” 

“ Quite so, captain, we made that out some time ago, and 
we have only overhauled you to ask whether you know of a 
Turkish ship likely to be sailing from any of the Eastern ports. 
Our object is to rescue Greek women and children on their 
way to the slave-markets.” 

“Then give us your flipper,” the master said; “that is a 


A CHANGE OF NAME * 14 o 

business an English sailor needn’t be ashamed of, though, as 
for sailing under a Greek flag, I would almost as lief sail under 
the skull and cross-bones, for nine cases out of ten it means 
pretty nearly the same thing. I have known many a ship sail 
in among those Greek islands and never be heard of again 
when there had been no storm to account for her disappear¬ 
ance. I would as lief anchor a ship near land in the Malay 
Archipelago as among the Greek islands. Still the women 
and children ain’t to blame for that. I was at Broussa two 
months ago and the slave-market was chock-full of Greek girls 
and children, and I thought then what a burning shame it 
was that Europe didn’t interfere to put down such villainous 
doings. Well now, as to Turkish ships, I don’t think you 
are likely to meet with any hereabouts. The Greeks have 
given them a bad scare, and I fancy that all the ships from 
Cyprus and from Aleppo and the other Syrian ports will run 
down due south till they sight land, and will hug that as near 
as they dare go till they get within shelter of the batteries of 
Alexandria. If you are after Turkish vessels you must stand 
south and anchor as close inland as the water will let you. 
Get down those lofty spars of yours. You don’t want them. 
That craft of yours sails like a witch. We think the Scar¬ 
borough is a fast brig. You went through the water three feet 
to our two, so you can do without your topsails. I can tell 
you the look of your craft is enough to frighten one fifteen 
miles away; a more rascally-looking vessel I never saw, she 
looks like a pirate all over.” 

“She was a slaver at one time,” Miller said. 

“Ah! that accounts for it. I thought that long low hull 
and those lofty spars were never put together for an honest 
purpose. You seem to carry mighty heavy metal,” he went 
on, looking at the Misericordia , which lay with her head sails 
aback a few hundred yards away. “ Four each side and a pivot; 
they look like eighteens.” 

“They are eighteens,” Miller said. “You see we have got 
to keep a sharp eye on friends as well as foes,” 


144 


IN GREEK WATERS 


“I should think so. Well, I have just come out from 
Larnaca. I heard from our consul that there were bad doings 
in the north of the island, and that the Christians were having 
a very rough time of it all through Cyprus. I have no doubt 
there are a lot of Christians hiding there who would give every 
stiver they have got in the world to be on board this craft.” 

“ And you say there were some massacres going on when 
you were there ? ” 

“ Yes, and I heard that the Turks were attacking one of the 
Christian villages on the north-western corner of the island. 
It was some way up on Mount Olympus, a few miles from the 
coast. Morphou Bay is the nearest point to it. I hear it is 
naturally a strong place, and Christians from other villages 
round have gone in there. The people attacking it are not 
troops, who I fancy have nothing to do with these massacres, 
but the natives of the Mussulman villages. Some of the poor 
devils may have got down to the coast, and you might pick 
some up if you were to cruise along there.” 

“Perhaps we might,” Horace said; “at any rate it would 
be worth a try. We will go on board again at once.” 

“Will you have a glass of wine first? I got hold of some 
good stuff at Larnaca. Good wine is cheap there now.” 

“No, thank you, we will be off at once,” Miller said. 

“Well, good-bye, gentlemen, and good luck to you! There 
is nothing I would like better than to be going for a cruise 
with you for a few months, for no vessel can do better work 
than that which you are engaged on.” 

Miller and Horace dropped down into their boat, and were 
rowed back to the schooner. 


A BESIEGED VILLAGE 


145 


CHAPTER VIII 

A BESIEGED VILLAGE 

A S soon as they gained the deck of the Misericordia Miller 
reported the advice the skipper of the English brig had 
given as to their taking their station near the southern coast, 
to pick up vessels hugging the shore on their way to Alexandria 
and the west. 

“I have no doubt he is right,” Will Martyn said; “that 
accounts for our not having seen a single craft flying the Turk¬ 
ish flag. Well, Mr. Beveridge, I think we can’t do better than 
take his advice.” 

“There is something else though,” Horace broke in; and 
he then told them what the captain had said about the fighting 
among the villagers on Mount Olympus. 

“Don’t you think, father, we might go there first? With 
this wind we should not be much more than twenty-four hours 
getting there, and we might pick up a lot of fugitives in hid¬ 
ing and possibly bring off the people from that village. It 
would not be a great loss of time anyhow.” 

“I think we might, Horace; hearing of it in the way you 
did, it seems almost like a call to help them. What do you 
say, Captain Martyn?” 

“Just as you like, sir. As Horace says, it is no great loss 
of time anyhow, and we certainly may do some good.” 

The order was given and the schooner was headed for 
Cyprus with a brisk wind on her beam that heeled her well 
over and sent her through the water at nine and a half knots 
an hour. The news was soon known through the vessel that 
there were massacres going on in Cyprus, and that there might 
be some work to be done, so there was an air of increased 
activity and animation among the crew. The wind held 
steadily, and next morning the mountains of Cyprus could be 
seen lying like a cloud in the distance, and by eleven o’clock 


146 


IN GREEK WATERS 


the north-westerly point of the island was but five or six miles 
away. Rounding the point they entered the great indenta¬ 
tion known as Morphou Bay. Martyn now ordered the topsails 
to be lowered. 

“We will run along about a mile off shore,” he said; “they 
can make out the flag then. We will go along as far as the 
other end of the bay and then come back again. If there are 
any people in hiding in the woods they will keep an eye on 
us, and as we come back will come off in boats if they have 
got them, or will come down to the shore and signal. We 
can send our boats in for them.” 

As they were still going through the water faster than they 
wished the foresail was also lowered, and they then went 
quietly along the coast, keeping a sharp look-out with their 
glasses on the shore. They passed several villages and could 
see that their appearance created much excitement, and that 
the population at once deserted their houses and made off. 

“They are evidently all Mussulman villages,” Mr. Bever¬ 
idge said. 

“They are Mussulman villages at present, Mr. Beveridge,” 
Martyn agreed, “but the chances are they were Christian a 
short time ago. You see they have all got fishing boats either 
riding at anchor or hauled up, and I fancy that most * of the 
fishing is done by the Greek inhabitants. I expect the Turks 
have cleared them out. What do you say, Mr. Beveridge, to 
our firing a shot or two at each of the villages as we pass? 
That will act as a warning to the Turks to keep out of range. 
If there are any Christians left they may take the opportunity 
of seizing the boats and coming off. We might lie-to for 
half an hour opposite each village to give them a chance of 
doing so.” 

“That would be a very good plan, I think, Captain Martyn.” 

As they were passing a village at the moment the Miseri- 
cordia was at once brought round. Two of the broadside guns 
were loaded, and two shots were sent over the village. Then 
the craft was hove-to, and waited for half an hour. As there 


A BESIEGED VILLAGE 


147 


were no signs of life, she again proceeded on her way. Three 
more villages were fired at with the same result. Half a mile 
beyond the furthest Tarleton exclaimed: “ There is someone 
swimming off, Captain Martyn; he has just put off from that 
point! There, do you see that black spot a little way off the 
point? ” 

Martyn turned his glass in that direction. “I see him,” 
he said. “Lower the small gig, Mr. Tarleton; take four 
hands, row off, and pick him up. You had better go too, 
Horace. The chances are he won’t speak anything but Greek.” 

In a couple of minutes the boat left the side of the schooner 
and rowed in the direction of the swimmer, the vessel being 
again thrown up into the wind. Horace stood up while 
Tarleton took the tiller lines. 

“Can you see him, Horace?” he asked. 

“No, not yet. There is too much ripple on; but if you 
keep her head as it is now I shall make him out before long.” 
Three or four minutes later he exclaimed: “ I see him, he is 
dead ahead! ” 

- Five minutes later the swimmer was alongside. He was a 
lad of about Horace’s age. 

“Are you Greek? ” he asked in surprise and in some alarm, 
as he looked at the uniforms of the crew as Horace helped 
him on board. 

“We are fighting for Greece,” Horace said, “although we 
are all English. We heard that there was some trouble here, 
and came to see if we could save any fugitives.” 

“I saw the flag,” the lad said, “and heard you fire twice 
at the village. My mother and sisters, and twenty or thirty 
others, are hidden in the wood there. The Mussulmans came 
down from the mountain villages three days ago and killed all 
they could find; but we were expecting it, for they had gone 
to the next village first, and a man from there brought the 
news just before they arrived. We lived on the outskirts and 
had time to get away, but I think my father and brothers have 
been killed. Do go on shore and take them off.” 


148 


IN GREEK WATERS 


“We must go back to the ship first,” Horace said. “This 
boat is too small to be of any use; besides, we must send a 
stronger crew. No doubt the Turks are watching us, and will 
come down if they see us landing.” 

The schooner had filled again and was following the boat, 
so that in two or three minutes they were on board. Horace 
lent the young Greek some of his clothes, and the schooner 
stood in towards the point, with a man in the chains sounding 
as they went. 

“Ask him whereabouts they are, Horace.” 

“Just on the other side of the point; but they will see us 
coming.” 

“I see no signs of them yet,” Tarleton said when, having 
got within three hundred yards of shore, the anchor was let go. 

“It is likely enough,” said Martyn, “that some of the Turks 
may have been coming down through the wood, and if the 
poor beggars heard them they would not dare show themselves. 
Now, Mr. Miller, you take charge of the long-boat with ten 
men. We will cover your landing.” 

The four broadside guns were loaded with grape, and their 
crews mustered to quarters, while the rest, armed with mus¬ 
kets, lined the side. 

“Take the boy with you, Mr. Miller, he can lead you to 
where his friends are hiding. Don’t stop to fire as you make 
for shore. We will dispose of any Turks there may be about.” 

The boat had not rowed more than fifty yards before five or 
six musket shots were fired from the bushes near the edge of 
the water. 

“ Give them a round with the aftermost gun,” Captain Martyn 
said; and in a moment the water near the bushes was torn up 
with a shower of grape. “ Give the next gun more elevation, 
boatswain. Send the shot well into the wood. That’s it. 
The same with the other two guns. That will clear them all 
out.” 

There was no further firing at the boat. As soon as it 
touched the shore Miller jumped ashore with eight of the men, 


«*■* 





< < 




GIVE THEM A ROUND 


SAID CAPTAIN MARTYN 






































































' 

























































A BESIEGED VILLAGE 


149 


while the other two pushed the boat off a few yards. Led by 
the Greek boy, the party ran along the shore and were lost to 
view round the point. Two more rounds were fired into the 
wood, but everything was quiet there, and in five minutes 
Miller’s party made their appearance round the point with a 
number of fugitives. No time was lost in getting them into 
the boat, which at once rowed off to the schooner. There 
were but three men among them, the rest were women and 
children. Most of them were completely exhausted. 

Horace, after asking them a question or two, said to Zaimes: 
“You had better prepare some soup, Zaimes, as quickly as you 
can. They have had nothing to eat for three days.” 

While this was being done, a sip of wine and a mouthful 
of bread were given to each. In the meantime some sailors 
were rigging up a partition with sail-cloth across the main 
deck, and here hammocks were slung for the use of the women 
and children. As soon as the poor creatures had taken a basin 
of hot soup they revived a good deal and poured out expres¬ 
sions of profuse gratitude to their rescuers. They had passed 
a terrible three days crouching among the bushes, and expect¬ 
ing every moment to be discovered. A few of the women had 
snatched up their jewels before taking to flight, but most of 
them were absolutely destitute. Mr. Beveridge and the two 
Greeks persuaded them to go below and take the sleep they 
so much needed. As soon as the deck was clear the anchor 
was got up, and the schooner proceeded on her way. She 
reached the farthest headland of the bay just as night began 
to fall, and Martyn decided to anchor there till morning. 
From the Greek lad who had first swum off, they learned that 
the village among the mountains still resisted. 

“They say there are two or three hundred there who have 
taken refuge from the villages round. There are some rich 
men among them, and that is the reason why the Mussulmans 
are so anxious to take the place.” 

“How many men are besieging it?” 

“That I don’t know,” the boy replied. “I should think 
four or five hundred.” 


150 


IN GREEK WATERS 


“But you have heard nothing for the last three days? The 
place may have fallen since then.” 

“No, I went last night to the village in hopes of finding 
bread in some of the houses, but there were too many Turks 
about. I was near enough to hear them talking. Some of 
them were going up to-day to join in the siege.” 

“How far is the place from the sea?” 

“ It is ten miles from this north shore, but it is not more 
than four or five from the western coast.” 

“ Is there any road ? ” 

“ Not from that side. The roads from the mountain villages 
all lead down to the bay.” 

“Is it too steep to climb from the other side?” 

“Not too steep to climb on foot. Donkeys and mules 
could get up there.” 

The matter was talked over in the cabin that evening, and 
it was agreed that if a guide could be obtained an attempt 
should be made to carry off the occupants of the village. 
During the night a boat with twelve fugitives came crff from 
the shore and as the Misei'icordia sailed slowly along the coast 
on the following day several parties of from three to ten peo¬ 
ple came out from the trees and waved white handkerchiefs 
and scarfs. All these were brought off, and four or five boats 
full of people were picked up during the day. Their occu¬ 
pants had seen the schooner passing on the previous day, and 
had at night, when the Mussulmans in the village were asleep, 
stolen down to the beach, launched boats, and put out to sea 
in the hope that the schooner would return next day. All 
were overwhelmed with joy at finding themselves under the 
Greek flag, although the greater portion of them had lost 
everything they possessed. The women and children were, 
like the first batch, provided for below, while the men and 
boys were told they must sleep on deck, which was no hard¬ 
ship in that balmy climate. 

Among those in the last boat picked up near the west point 
of the bay was a young man who was a native of a village lying 


A BESIEGED VILLAGE 


151 


a short distance from the one that was besieged. He happened 
to be down in the coast village when the Turks commenced 
hostilities there, and hearing that the village to which he be¬ 
longed had been destroyed, he had remained in hiding near 
the coast. Marco and his brother, who mingled with the 
fugitives, had learned this, and at once took the news to the 
cabin. “He says he has been a goat-herd, and knows all 
the paths among the mountains.” 

“Then he is the very fellow we want to get hold of,” Will 
Martyn said. “We had better have him in here and question 
him.” 

The young Greek was brought in. He knew of several paths 
from the village down to the western shore. 

“Now what sort of place is this village? ” Captain Martyn 
asked. 

“ It stands at the top of rocky ground that slopes away all 
round it. There are vineyards and gardens among the rocks. 
Since the trouble in Greece began, the people have been 
frightened, and have built a wall five or six feet high round 
the village, and the Christians in all the villages round de¬ 
cided that if there was trouble from the Mussulmans they 
would go there to help defend it.” 

“Is there high ground round the village?” 

“Yes, the hills rise very high on three sides, but they are 
too far away for guns to do much harm; besides, the houses 
stand thickly together. My people will fight till the last, but 
I don’t know how long the - provisions will last. I know they 
all made up their minds that if they were besieged and saw no 
hope of succour, they would at last kill all the women and 
children to prevent their being made slaves by the Turks, and 
then they would march out to fight until the last man was 
slain.” 

“How long would it take us to get up from the shore to the 
village?” 

“One can come down in an hour, but it takes three hours’ 
hard work to get up.” 


352 


IN GREEK WATERS 


“ Could you after dark take us close to the point where one 
of these paths comes down to the shore ? ” 

“Oh, yes, I could do that easily.” 

“Very well, that will do for the present. Now, Mr. Bever¬ 
idge, it is for you to decide,” Martyn said. “Of course the 
affair is a risky one; but it seems to me that forty well-armed 
English Sailors ought to be able to make their way into the 
village without very much difficulty, for of course the Turks 
will be scattered about all round it. The difficulty is not in 
getting in, but in getting out. We should have to bring per¬ 
haps two or three hundred women and children, and cover 
their retreat down to the water. Of course the men would 
help us, but still it would be a stiff job in the face of four or 
five hundred of the enemy. These Turks may know nothing 
of soldiering, but they are mountaineers and are used to arms, 
and for irregular fighting like this, would be quite as formida¬ 
ble as the best troops. If we knew anything about the ground 
we should be able to give a more decided opinion. What of 
course we should want, if possible, would be some post, either 
a defile or a steep eminence- that we could hold for half an 
hour and keep the Turks back until the women and children 
are well on their way down the mountain. After that we 
could make a bolt for it, and might get down without much 
loss; but if there is no place where we could make a stand 
anywhere along the road, we should be in an awkward fix, 
especially if the path is a bad one, as I expect it is. You see 
the whole party would have to go in single file, and if there 
are four or five hundred of them, it would be next to impos¬ 
sible to guard the flanks and keep the Turks off if they made 
a rush, while every shot they fired would tell on such a long 
line. You understand, Mr. Beveridge, I am putting the matter 
to you in the worst light so that we should all understand the 
sort of business it is likely to be.” 

“I see that it is a very serious affair, Martyn; but at the 
same time, when we know that there are so many lives at 
stake, I think that we must run the risk/however great.” 


A BESIEGED VILLAGE 


153 


“Very well, then, that is settled, Mr. Beveridge, and I am 
sure we are all glad that you have decided so. The next ques¬ 
tion is, who shall go, and who shall remain behind.” 

“I shall certainly go,” Mr. Beveridge said. “I am not 
going to allow others to take risks that I do not share myself.” 

“We ought to be as strong a party as possible,” Martyn 
said. “At the same time we must leave enough to sail the 
schooner, if not to fight her. It is probable that yesterday 
morning, as soon as our flag was seen, messengers were sent 
off at once to Limasol and Larnaca to tell them that a Greek 
vessel was in the bay; and if there are any Turkish vessels of 
war in either of these harbours, we shall be having them com¬ 
ing round.” 

“That is likely enough,” Miller said. “We must certainly 
be ready to get up our anchor and be off at a minute’s notice.” 

“Well, Miller, then you must remain on board with ten 
men. We will load all the guns before we go. Ten men are 
enough to get up sail and to fight the pivot-gun. You had 
better not waste any time in getting up the anchor, but buoy 
and then slip the cable. We can recover it, if we like, after¬ 
wards. If you should be driven off the coast while we are 
away, lower a sail under her fore-foot so as to deaden her way 
and encourage the Turks with the hope that they are going to 
catch you. Lead them a dance for seven or eight hours, then 
cut the drag adrift, set every stitch of sail, and run back again. 
You will be here in plenty of time to get us all on board 
before they can come up again. Of course if we see that you 
are gone we shall choose some position where we can make a 
stout defence, and shall hold it until you come back to the 
anchorage.” 

“All right, sir. I will obey orders. Of course I would 
rather have gone with the expedition ashore; but someone 
must stay on board, and if you are going I must take the 
command in your absence. Ten men will be quite enough 
for me. We can leave the main and foresail standing when 
, we anchor, so that will be plenty of strength.” 


154 


IN GREEK WATERS 


“Well, as that is all settled, we will bout ship and cruise 
east again. It will be dark in an hour, and it is well they 
should think on shore that we are off again to the east. I dare¬ 
say they can make us out from points on the mountains not 
far from the village. If they see us sailing away, it will never 
enter their heads that we have any intention of interfering in 
their little game up there.” 

Accordingly the schooner was again put about, and retraced 
her course along the shore until it became quite dark; then 
she stood out to sea until well out of sight of land, when she 
was headed west again. The news had already got about 
through the ship that there was to be a landing party to rescue 
a number of Christians besieged by the Turks among the 
mountains, and the sailors were in the highest spirits, cut¬ 
lasses were ground, pistols and muskets served out to those 
who were to land, and the disappointment of those who were 
to remain behind was mitigated by Horace mentioning to 
them that not improbably they might have a brush with the 
Turks on their own account. 

Cartridges, muskets, and pistols were served out, and the 
arms carefully examined. Each man was ordered to take with 
him a water-bottle filled with weak grog, and two pounds of 
bread in his haversack, and a hearty supper was served out. 
Once round the point of the bay the schooner was kept close 
in shore. The Greek kept a sharp look-out on the hills loom¬ 
ing high above them, and about nine o’clock announced that 
they were now near the place where a track from the mountain 
came down to the shore. The anchor was at once dropped 
and the headsails lowered. Then the sailors took their places 
in three boats, two of the men who were to stop behind going 
in each to bring them back to the schooner when the landing 
had been effected. Zaimes was to accompany the party, while 
Marco remained with Mr. Miller on board. 

Ten of the fugitives, active young men, had begged to be 
allowed to accompany the expedition, but the offer had been 
declined, and they were told that they might be more useful 


A BESIEGED VILLAGE 


155 


helping to work the guns of the schooner should a Turkish 
ship-of-war come round. When the arms had been purchased 
a dozen good rifles had been among them, and after Mr. 
Beveridge, Zaimes, and the three officers had each armed 
themselves with one of these, the rest were divided among the 
best shots of the party. Tom Burdett, much to his disap¬ 
pointment, was left on board to assist the first lieutenant. 

As soon as the boats reached the shore the men were formed 
up. Tarleton was to lead the advance party of ten men, hav¬ 
ing with him the guide. Close behind these were the main 
body, twenty strong, led by Martyn; behind them Mr. Bever¬ 
idge, with Zaimes and the surgeon, who was also accompany¬ 
ing the party, had their place. Horace commanded the 
rear-guard of ten men. Although this nominal division was 
made, the whole party kept closely together, as the night was 
so dark that they might otherwise have missed each other. 
None of the fire-arms were loaded, lest an accident should 
occur by a gun being discharged by a fall, by striking against 
a rock, or by the trigger catching in a bush. 

After a few hundred yards’ walk along the shore the Greek 
struck upon the track and led the way up, the rest following in 
single file. The climb seemed interminable to Horace. At 
times it was so steep it was difficult to scramble up, and in 
the darkness there were many falls. There were frequent 
stops, to enable the men to get their breath; but after three 
hours’ climbing they at last reached comparatively level 
ground, and the guide told them they were within half a mile 
of the ridge from which they could look down upon the vil¬ 
lage. - 

“Well, we will move slowly forward until we come either 
to some bushes or a bit ‘of a hollow where we can get some 
shelter, for it is quite sharp up here, and as soon as the men 
begin to cool down a bit they will feel it. I wish we had 
brought blankets now, but it never struck me that it would be 
cold. Mr. Tarleton, let your ten men scatter. Don’t let 
them wander too far, but let them search about for some place 


156 


IN GREEK WATERS 


where we can get shelter. We will remain here; and if any 
of the men find a place, send one back to bring us up. We 
have got another four hours to wait before daylight.” 

In ten minutes one of the men came back with news that 
they had found a patch of bush large enough for them to take 
shelter in. In a short time they all arrived at the spot. The 
bushes were sweet smelling and free from thorns, and the men 
soon crushed their way into them and lay down. 

“You will remain in charge, Mr. Tarleton. I shall go on 
and take a look down at the village. I don’t suppose we shall 
see much, but we may be able to make out whether they are 
still holding out. Will you go on with me, Mr. Beveridge, or 
stay here? ” 

“I will go on with you. I find it bitterly cold here; for 
not being accustomed to hard work, as your men are, I found 
that climb almost too much for me; and hot as I have been, I 
should not like to stop still in this keen air, even with the 
shelter of the bushes.” 

“Well, we will take it easy this last bit, Mr. Beveridge. 
Come along, Horace.” 

Again preceded by the guide, and followed by Zaimes, they 
ascended the shoulder of the hill. It was a steep pull, but 
in a quarter of an hour they reached the crest. Just as they 
did so they heard the report of a gun, followed at once by 
several others. An exclamation of satisfaction broke from 
them. Their climb had not been in vain; the village was 
still holding out. Fifty yards farther the ground fell away 
suddenly in front of them, and they stood at the edge of a 
* deep descent. Extending round the foot of the hills that 
formed the amphitheatre in the centre of which the village 
lay, was a line of fires; some blazing brightly, others dim red 
spots. Another chain of fires, much closer together, extended 
across the mouth of the valley. The village, lying in the black 
shadow of the hills, was invisible to them, and not even a 
single light indicated its position. 

“That is where it is,” the guide said, pointing down to the 
centre of the hollow. 


A BESIEGED VILLAGE 


157 


As he spoke a flash of flame, followed a second or so later 
by a report, shot out from the spot towards which he was 
pointing. 

“They are keeping a sharp look-out,” Martyn said; “they 
are not to be caught napping. Now the point is, which is 
our best side for going down on the village without being 
seen? ” 

“The best point,” the guide said, “would be from the head 
of the valley. Orchards extend from the village to the foot 
of the hill, and a ravine runs some distance up there. If we 
could get into that, we might get some distance through the 
orchards before we are noticed.” 

“ Could you lead us along the side of the hill to this ravine 
in the dark? ” 

“I think so. I am sure I could lead you. The danger 
would be from setting stones in motion and so calling the 
attention of the enemy. The hillside is very steep, and a 
stone set rolling would go right down to their fires.” 

“We must risk that,” Martyn said. “It would be a great 
thing to be able to take them by surprise. Don’t you think 
so, Mr. Beveridge?” 

“ I should say it was well worth trying. But it is the getting 
out, not the getting in, that seems to me the difficult part of 
the business.” 

“There is no doubt about that,” Martyn agreed. “Will you 
ask him if this part we are standing on goes straight down to 
the village? The slope looks to me almost too steep.” 

Mr. Beveridge put the question to the guide. 

“ He says the road zigzags. Olive-trees grow up for some 
distance—about a third of the distance, he says.” 

“That is good,” Martyn said, “because if we get the peo¬ 
ple with a sudden rush across the open we can defend the 
lower edge of these trees, and the women and children will 
be hidden from below till they get up above the trees, where 
they would be pretty well out of danger except from a chance 
shot. I think, Mr. Beveridge, it would be a good thing to 




158 


IN GREEK WATERS 


leave Tarleton with fifteen men here. If we can take them 
by surprise five-and-twenty of us ought to be quite enough to 
make our way in. Even if there are six hundred of them they 
must be scattered pretty thinly round this circle, and are 
probably thickest down at the mouth of the valley. The 
rear-guard here will of course be concealed until we sally out. 
Then if the Turks from the other side and the end of the val¬ 
ley try to climb the hill on either side of the path so as to cut 
us off, our fellows here could open fire and prevent them doing 
so, and as the enemy would not be able to see how many men 
there are, it would stop them a bit.” 

“I think that would be a very good plan, Captain Martyn.” 

“Very well, then. Horace, do you go back to the bushes, 
bring Mr. Tarleton and the men up. Tell them to move as 
quietly as they can when they get near this point.” 

The men got up willingly when Tarleton gave the word, for 
although the bushes afforded some shelter, they were already 
feeling very chilled, and were pleased to be in motion again. 
They met Martyn a short distance from the spot where Horace 
had left him. The men were halted. 

“Now, Mr. Tarleton, you are to take the fourteen men who 
came ashore with you in the gig. For the present you had 
best return with them to the bushes and wait there till daylight. 
Then you will come back to this point. Post the men where 
they cannot be seen from below. Be sure that not a head is 
shown. Take your own post at a point whence you can see 
down into the valley without being seen yourself. You will 
remain in hiding while we fight our way into the village. As 
soon as you see the sortie begun get your men ready for action, 
and let them lie down without showing themselves more than 
they can help at the edge of the brow from which they can 
fire down into the valley. Your duty is to prevent any par¬ 
ties of the enemy working along the side of the hill to take 
the fugitives and us in flank as we come up the path. As the 
women and children arrive tell them to push on along the 
path as fast as they can, without stopping or paying attention 


A BESIEGED VILLAGE 


159 


to any fire that may be opened upon them. They will be told 
before they start that the schooner is in readiness to take them 
off. Still, you may as well hurry them along. You will remain 
here until the last and form the rear-guard. But we shall all 
make a stand here as long as we can so as to give the women 
and children plenty of a start. Do you quite understand? ” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Shall I go with you or wait here?” Macfarlane asked. 

“ I think you might as well stay here, doctor. There won’t 
be any time for you to be dressing wounds till we are back 
here again.” 

Tarleton called out the men who had landed with him, and 
marched off with them. 

“Now, my lads,” Martyn said to the others, “we are going 
to work along the side of the hill so as to come down behind 
them. But I fancy it will be very steep in places. Sling your 
muskets behind you so as to have both hands to hold on by. 
If you once begin to roll you go right down to the bottom, 
and then there is an end to our chance of surprising them. 
Be careful, above all things, how you walk, for if you set 
a stone rolling it will put them on their guard. We have 
to go as quietly as mice. Now follow me in single file, and 
keep as close as you can to each other, yet so far off that if 
you stumble you won’t touch the man in front of you.” 

The men fell in, and Horace took his place at the rear. A 
few steps and they halted. The guide then went on in front 
of Martyn, and Mr. Beveridge and Zaimes fell in behind him. 
The hill rose so abruptly on the right that it was necessary to 
keep along on its slope, and very cautiously the men made 
their way along the hillside. Each step had to be felt before 
they put their weight down. Sometimes it was slippery grass, 
and so steep that they were obliged to crawl on all-fours to 
make their way along it. Sometimes they passed patches of 
bare rock and sometimes slides of loose stones. They had 
gone but a short distance when Martyn passed the word along 
in a whisper for them to sit down, pull off their shoes, and 


160 


IN GREEK WATERS 


fasten them round their necks. Indeed, had it not been for 
this precaution, there were places across which it would have 
been impossible to pass. As it was, it took them a full hour 
to traverse the half-mile between the point from which they 
had started and the head of the valley. At last a sharp fall 
told them that they were at the edge of the ravine. As soon 
as they descended into it there was a short halt to allow Mr. 
Beveridge to rest. 

“I am sorry I came,” he said as he sat down faint and 
exhausted. “ I did not reckon on this sort of thing, Captain 
Martyn. If I had done so I would have remained with Tarle- 
ton.” 

“It is all right now, Mr. Beveridge. We have done our 
climbing, and it is a marvel that we have done it without 
alarming those fellows below, for some small stones rolled down 
once or twice. But if they noticed them, no doubt they 
thought that it was some sheep or goats on the hillside. Now, 
my lads, before you go any further, you had better take a drink 
from your bottles. You will have to be careful in going down 
the ravine, for there are sure to be loose stones lying about.” 

After a halt of five minutes they proceeded cautiously down, 
and at last, to their great satisfaction, stood on level ground, 
and soon entered a grove of fruit-trees, where they halted and 
lay down. There was a short consultation whether their guide 
should try and make his way into the village to inform the be¬ 
sieged of the help that was near in order that they might assist 
by opening a fire upon the besiegers as soon as the sailors made 
their attack. The idea was, however, abandoned, because, 
were he seen by the Turks, it would put them on the alert; 
and because, in the second place, he might be shot by the 
besieged as he approached the village. It did not seem to 
Martyn that there could be any difficulty in their getting in. 
It was not likely that more than fifty of the enemy at the out¬ 
side could interpose between them and the village, and these, 
taken by surprise, and ignorant of the number of their assail¬ 
ants, could offer no effectual resistance, and they would be up 


A BESIEGED VILLAGE 


161 


under shelter of the guns of the defenders of the village before 
the Turks could rally from their first surprise. 

Another two hours and daylight began to appear. Martyn 
waited until it was light enough to make their way through 
the trees without difficulty. Then the men, most of whom 
had fallen asleep as soon as they lay down, were roused. 

“Now, my lads, you are to keep together. Keep your 
muskets slung, and use cutlass and pistol. I don’t expect 
there will be any serious resistance, but, at any rate, don’t 
straggle. Of course we don’t want any prisoners. Shoot or 
cut down any one who opposes you, and follow me straight 
on. Now, load your pistols.” 

As soon as this was done they proceeded through the wood. 
The guide, as before, led the way. His instructions were 
that directly they were through the Turks he was to run on. 
at the top of his speed, shouting to the villagers not to fire, 
as those approaching were friends. Martyn, Mr. Beveridge, 
Horace, and Zaimes, followed close behind the guide, the line 
of seamen extending behind them. They were nearly through 
the orchard when a shout was given and they saw a dozen fig¬ 
ures leap up from the ground. 

“Come along, lads!” Martyn shouted. 

The sailors gave a cheer, and at a run the party rushed for¬ 
ward. The Turks, astounded at the appearance of this body 
of sailors, snatched up their muskets, one or two fired at ran¬ 
dom, and then the whole fled when their assailants were still 
thirty yards away. A few pistols were emptied at the fugi¬ 
tives, and then, paying no further attention to them, the party 
kept straight on. When they emerged from the trees the 
village was but some three hundred yards away. The Greek, 
waving his red sash and shouting “Friends, friends, do not 
fire! ” dashed forward at full speed across the gardens that 
intervened between the orchard and the rocky knoll upon 
which the village stood. A row of heads appeared above the 
wall and a line of musket-barrels pointed outward. As the 
Greek approached shouts of welcome and triumph broke from 


162 


IN GREEK WATERS 


the besieged, which swelled more and more loudly as the party 
of sailors were seen running in a compact body towards the 
wall. 

A few straggling shots were fired by the Turks, but these 
passed harmlessly overhead, and the party reached the wall 
without a single casualty, and were soon helped over. The 
delight of the Greeks was only equalled by their astonishment 
at the approach of this body of foreign sailors. All hope of 
either escape or rescue had left them, and they had thought 
only of fighting to the last. As soon as they understood from 
the guide, Zaimes, Horace, and Mr. Beveridge that there was 
a ship in readiness to take them off, and that there was a 
chance of fighting their way through the besiegers, the village 
was the scene of the wildest delight. The men shouted, 
screamed, danced, laughed, and wept by turns. The women 
seized the sailors’ hands and kissed them, to the confusion 
of the tars, threw themselves on their knees, and poured out 
passionate ejaculations of thanksgiving that a hope of rescue 
should be afforded them, and it was some time before anything 
like order was restored. By this time the alarm had spread 
round the circle of the besiegers, and their anger was exhib¬ 
ited by shots being fired into the place, many of them press¬ 
ing forward so threateningly that the defenders manned the 
walls, and opening fire upon the Turks drove them back out 
of range of their guns. 



A S soon as the excitement subsided a little, Mr. Beveridge 
** assembled the heads of the families in the village church. 
“You must prepare to leave at once,” he said. “Our landing 
will be shortly known, and it will be guessed that we intend 



RESCUED 


163 


to take you off in our ship. The consequence is, in addition 
to the enemies now round you others will gather, and it will 
be no longer possible to cut our way through. What we pro¬ 
pose to do is to make a rush out, the women and children 
following us. As soon as we have gained that wood and driven 
the Mussulmans out the women and children will hurry up the 
path, while all the fighting men will hold the wood and keep 
the Turks at a distance. There are some more of my men at 
the top of the hill there; these will keep off any parties of the 
enemy who try to scale the hillside at other points. As soon 
as the women are fairly at the top the men will fall back gradu¬ 
ally. The sailors will cover the retreat. We shall hold the 
top of the hill till we know that the women have got nearly 
down to the sea-shore, and then fall back. We are risking 
our lives here to save you, and we shall expect all the men to 
fight valiantly and to obey our orders. It is only by working 
well together that we can hope to beat off the Turks as we 
retreat, and to get safely on board ship. You must not load 
yourselves with baggage; of course each man can take any¬ 
thing he can carry wrapped in his sash, and the women can 
take bundles such as they can carry on their heads, but they 
must beware not to take too great weights. Anyone who 
lags behind will have her bundle taken off and thrown away.” 

“Would it not be better to wait till night? ” one of the 
elders of the village asked. 

“No. The captain of the ship says that in the dark we 
should not be able to keep off the enemy nor to travel fast. 
We may lose rather more in the first rush in daylight, but after 
that the light will be all in our favour. How many men have 
you armed with muskets?” 

“There are a hundred and forty-six men, and all have 
guns.” 

“ How many women? ” 

“There are about two hundred women and girls, and a hun¬ 
dred and eighty children of all ages.” 

“Very well, I leave it to you to make preparations. You 


164 


IN GREEK WATERS 


must tell the women that they are to keep together, and to 
follow about a hundred yards behind the men as they advance. 
As soon as the wood is taken they are to hurry through it, 
mount the hill by the path, and then without stopping a min¬ 
ute go on at the top of their speed to the sea-shore. It is just 
possible that some Turkish ships-of-war may have driven our 
vessel away, but if that is so she will be back again this even¬ 
ing. If they find she has gone they must sit down under 
shelter of the rocks near the shore, and we will keep the 
Turks at bay till the ship arrives. Make your preparations 
and get your valuables together, for in an hour from the 
present time we shall sally out.” 

While this was going on Martyn had formed up the villagers, 
for the firing had now ceased. The besiegers had before 
shrunk from attacking the wall, relying upon famine to com¬ 
pel the defenders to surrender, and the addition, small as it 
was, to the garrison rendered any idea of assault more for¬ 
midable than before. Horace acted as Martyn’s interpreter. 

“Now,” he said, “I expect we shall have no difficulty in 
carrying the wood, for the enemy can have no idea that we 
intend to escape in that direction, or that we mean to sally 
out at all; therefore it is not likely that they will have more 
than fifty or sixty men at that point. In the first place I want 
forty determined men who can be trusted to obey orders.” 

One of the leaders of the defence chose out that number of 
men. Martyn divided them into two parties and told off five 
sailors to each. 

“ Horace, you will take command of one of these bands, 
and you, Jones,” he said to the coxswain of his gig, “will take 
command of the other. Your bands will fall in behind the 
main body, which I shall lead. We shall go straight at the 
wood. You will follow us till you are half-way across the open, 
and will then take post, one to the right and the other to the 
left, fifty yards from the line we take. Your work will be to 
check any of the Turks who may come running down from 
the ends of the valley, and to cover the passage of the women. 


RESCUED 


165 


As soon as they have all passed along you will both run in and 
join us in the wood. Now, lads, I want the wall undermined 
for a width of ten yards or so, so that when we push it it will 
all fall together and leave a wide front for us to pour out. It 
is not above three hundred and fifty yards or so to the wood, 
and we shall be half-way across before the Turks can pull them¬ 
selves together, and they won’t have time for much more than 
a shot each before we are upon them.” 

In an hour the whole of the villagers were gathered. There 
were five or six wounded men unable to walk. These were 
laid on doors, and four Greeks were told off to each. The 
children were told off, one to each woman. Twenty of the 
Greeks were to form a special escort for the women, and 
Martyn’s order to their leader was, “See that each woman 
takes along the child told off to her. If she doesn’t help it 
along, take off her bundle and throw it away; force her to 
look after the child. Not a single child shall be lost if we 
can help it. Life first, property next.” 

Martyn was well pleased with the bearing of the Greeks. 
The men looked ready and eager for the fight; the women, 
stern and determined. All of them had knives or daggers 
in their sashes. Some, in addition, had their husbands’ or 
fathers’ pistols. Their bundles were poised on their heads, 
and each, with the exception of a few of the old women, had 
an infant in her arms or held a child by the hand. The 
twenty English sailors formed the first lin£; behind these came 
the main body of the Greeks. Horace’s and Jones’ parties 
were drawn up three or four paces in their rear, and behind 
these were gathered the women. 

“Now,” Martyn said to the Greek fighting men, “on one 
point my orders are distinct. Not a shot is to be fired until 
we reach the trees. Firing would be no good whatever; it 
would be a loss of time, and your guns would be empty just 
when you want them; besides, you would be as likely to shoot 
those in front of you as the enemy. All you have got to do 
is to follow me closely until you get into the olive grove, then 


166 


IN GREEK WATERS 


scatter and clear it of the Turks; but don’t go a foot beyond 
them in pursuit. Directly it is clear let each man take up 
his station behind a tree at its edge, and defend himself there 
until the order is given to fall back.” 

Zaimes translated the order, then the sailors advanced to 
the wall, from which the lower stones had been removed as 
far as was safe. “Now put your shoulders to it, my hearties, 
and heave all together. One, two, three; now! ” 

The walls shook as the sailors flung themselves against it. 
“It is going. Now another try.” There was a shout as the 
wall toppled over. Then with a cheer the sailors sprang for¬ 
ward, led by Martyn, dashed over the fragments of the wall 
and down the steep rock, the Greeks pouring after them in a 
confused mass, and then the whole dashed across the flat cul¬ 
tivated ground towards the olive grove. As Martyn had fore¬ 
told, not a shot was fired until they were nearly half-way across, 
though loud shouts of alarm were heard, then a straggling fire 
was opened; but the enemy were evidently too flurried and 
alarmed to take aim. Without a check the sailors ran on, 
cutlass in hand, but the Turks did not await the attack. Out¬ 
numbered and surprised they had no sooner fired than they 
dashed away among the trees to join their companions right 
and left, and the olive grove was deserted when the sailers 
entered. 

“That will do, lads! ” Martyn shouted. “ Leave the Greeks 
to hold the wood. Sheath your cutlasses and unsling your 
rifles. Come back with me to help the others; keep back the 
enemy in the open.” 

There was, however, no occasion for assistance. The 
women, instead of waiting, had followed close behind the 
flanking parties, and were already coming into the wood. By 
the time Martyn joined the flanking parties the women had all 
passed, while Horace and Jones were just beginning to fall 
back with their commands. By this time the valley rang with 
shouts and cries, and guns were being aimlessly discharged, 
but the sailors were back in the olive grove before the Turks 


RESCUED 


167 


had mustered strongly enough to think of advancing. The 
sailors lay down in the intervals between the trees, and as soon 
as the enemy began to advance a heavy fire was opened upon 
them, the twelve rifles telling with deadly effect. The Turks 
on the opposite side of the valley instead of advancing at once 
to the assistance of their comrades, made a rush at the village 
as soon as they perceived that it was no longer defended, 
thinking for the moment much more of plunder than of attack¬ 
ing the retiring Greeks, while the parties who had begun to 
advance towards the wood rapidly retired again before the 
heavy fire opened upon them. 

“Go round and stop those Greeks firing, Horace; the fools 
are simply wasting their ammunition,” Martyn said savagely 
as the Greeks continued to blaze away when the enemy were 
already out of range of their guns. Horace hurried off one 
way and Zaimes the other, and in a minute or two the firing 
ceased. As it did so the report of guns could be heard on the 
hill above them. 

“That is Tarleton’s party at work,” Martyn said to Mr. 
Beveridge. “Of course the Turks have seen the women 
mounting the hill, and I suppose some of them were begin¬ 
ning to climb up to cut them off. Tarleton’s fire will stagger 
them a bit.” From the shouts in the valley it was evident 
that the enemy were gathering for a serious attack. Horace 
had returned to Martyn’s side. 

“Now, Horace, do you take ten of the men and ascend the 
path half-way up the hill. Post five of them on each side of 
it to act as flanking parties. Zaimes, do you tell your country¬ 
men it is time for us to be off. We must get well up the hill¬ 
side before these fellows make their rush. Mr. Beveridge, 
will you make your way up the path at once. These Greeks 
are as active as goats, and I should recommend you to be push¬ 
ing on to get a start of them.” 

In a couple of minutes the entire party had left the wood 
and were mounting the path, Martyn and his sailors forming 
the rear-guard. The Greeks sprang up the path with such 


168 


IN GREEK WATERS 


speed that the sailors, active as they were, had hard work to 
keep near them. Mr. Beveridge was speedily overtaken. 

“Jones, you take Mr. Beveridge’s rifle; and do you, Haw¬ 
kins and Baldock, help him along. Make haste, lads! we shall 
have a storm of bullets coming up after us in no time; ” for as 
soon as the fugitives appeared on the path above the level of 
the tree-tops a loud shout had broken from the enemy, and it 
was certain they would soon be upon them. So rapidly, how¬ 
ever, was the ascent made that Martyn and the sailors reached 
the spot where Horace with his party had taken up his posi¬ 
tion before a shot rang out from below. There was a slight 
shoulder on the hillside at this point, and lying down here the 
men were sheltered from the fire below. 

“Wait here, my lads, until you get your wind. Their guns 
will hardly carry this height, and there is no fear of their 
showing themselves above the trees, at any rate for the 
present.” 

Mr. Beveridge threw himself down on the grass, and even 
the sailors were glad of a pause, for in the five minutes that had 
elapsed since they left the wood they had climbed half-way 
up the hill and were fully three hundred feet above the olive 
grove. A roar of musketry broke out from below, and some 
of the Mussulmans dashed out from the trees, waving their 
guns and calling upon the others to follow them; but as soon 
as they showed themselves the sailors under Horace opened 
fire. Some of the others would have joined them, but Martyn 
forbade them. 

“ It is no use trying to take aim, lads, just after such a run 
as that. You must wait until your breath comes quietly, and 
your hands get steady again. You would be only throwing 
away powder and ball, and we shall probably want all we have 
got before we are 'on board the schooner again.” 

The firing above still continued, and looking along the hill¬ 
side men could be seen straggling up in considerable numbers 
on either side. 

“Forward, lads! we must move on again. Horace, you 


RESCUED 


169 


may as well bring your men straight up. There is no fear of 
their venturing on an attack up this path. Bring your father 
on with you. There is no occasion for haste; we will push 
straight up now. Forward! Don’t run, but go at a steady 
pace that you can keep up till we reach the top.” 

Horace followed with the rear-guard at a leisurely walk 
wherever the inequalities of the ground sheltered the path 
from the bullets that still came singing out from below, and 
stepping out briskly whenever they were exposed to fire. The 
coxswain was waiting with orders when they reached the top. 

“The captain’s orders are, Mr. Beveridge,” he said to 
Horace, “that your party is to remain here for the present 
with these twenty Greeks. You are to spread along the edge 
here for a bit and keep up a fire, if the Turks try to climb the 
hill hereabouts. The captain is with a party away there on 
that high ground back on the left, and Mr. Tarleton with the 
rest back there on the right, so as to prevent the varmint work-. 
ing round in front of us. You are to let them know if you 
see any large bodies of men climbing the hill, either right or 
left of you.” 

Horace divided his party in two, telling Jones with five 
sailors and ten Greeks to take post a hundred yards to the left 
of the path, while he with the others went the same distance 
to the right. 

“Don’t let them waste their ammunition, Jones. My fattier 
and Zaimes will go with you, and as you three have rifles you 
may do something to check those fellows from climbing up 
away to the left. It is no use the others firing, their guns 
won’t carry half the distance. Of course if the Turks try to 
come straight up from the wood your party will all open fire 
upon them.” 

As soon as he got to his station Horace lay down, and with 
one of the sailors with him who had a rifle, opened fire upon 
the stream of men ascending the hillside near the head of the 
valley. After firing three or four rounds he told the sailor to 
desist. 


170 


IN GREEK WATERS 


“We are only wasting our ammunition, Frost,” he said. 
“They are seven or eight hundred yards away, and the rifles 
are of no real use at more than half that distance.” 

Ten minutes later he sent off sailors to Martyn and Tarleton, 
to tell them that the Turks continued to climb the hill in large 
numbers, and that he should think that at least two hundred 
men must have gone up on each flank, that flames had broken 
out in the village, and numbers of men were pouring out from 
there, and would probably join in the attack. A few minutes 
later a message came from Martyn: 

“The captain says, sir, that now the women have got half 
an hour’s start we shall fall back. Your party are to retire by 
the path. He and Mr. Tarleton will work down the hill on 
your flanks. You are to keep your eye on them, and regu¬ 
late your pace by theirs, keeping about a hundred yards in their 
rear, unless you are pressed, when you can double on till you 
are in line with them. He has sent orders to Mr. Tarleton, 
sir.” 

Horace was expecting the order. A sharp fire had broken 
out on either side, and he knew that the Turks were trying to 
work round to cut them off. 

“Run on,” he said to the sailor, “and tell the other party 
over there to join me in the path.” 

In three minutes the united body was marching to the rear. 
The crackle of musketry was now incessant, and Horace soon 
caught,.sight of the two flanking parties making their way down 
the fyijf at a distance of a hundred yards or so on either side 
of the path. They were in scattered order, loading as they 
retired, crouching behind rocks to take a steady aim, and then 
retiring again; going at a run when the ground permitted it, 
hanging to the rocks and bushes when they afforded shelter. 
On the higher ground, to the left of Martyn’s party, were a 
number of Mussulmans. They were pursuing similar tactics 
to those of their opponents—at times crouching behind rocks, 
and then bounding forward with loud yells. 

“Get ready to fire, lads,” Horace said. 


“The next time 


RESCUED 


171 


those fellows make a rush give them a volley. They are not 
thinking of us yet, and we shall take them by surprise. Take 
steady aim; don’t hurry. Halt; drop on one knee. They 
will be crossing that open space in a minute.” He repeated 
the order to the Greeks. “There they come,” he said a mo¬ 
ment later. “ Get ready! Now fire ! ” 

Thirty guns rang out; several of the Turks fell, and the rest, 
with a shout of surprise, bounded back into the bushes. 

“Now retire briskly for a bit, and load as you go.” 

After a hundred yards’ running they again fell into a walk. 
Horace kept his eye upon Tarleton’s party. They did not 
seem so severely pressed, and had the advantage that their 
foes were on somewhat lower ground than they were. Pres¬ 
ently a sailor came in from the left. 

“Captain Martyn’s orders are that the two flanking parties 
are to fall back quickly to the path, then to double down the 
hill to that shoulder a mile below. You are to act as rear¬ 
guard, and to follow close behind them.” 

In two or three minutes the two flanking parties, taking 
advantage of cover which concealed them from the enemy, 
made a rush to the path. The body under Tarleton gained it 
first, and at once started down at the top of their speed. 
Martyn’s party were but a minute later. He himself paused 
till Horace came up at a run. 

“We can go faster down this path,” he said, “than they 
can follow over the rough ground, and there are sue lot of 
them that they will jostle each other on the path, ai.,. /on’t 
get along as fast as we shall. How are you feeling, Mr. 
Beveridge? ” 

“ I am all right now we are going downhill, Martyn. It is 
only the climbing I can’t stand. This is really very exciting 
work, though I don’t like running away.” 

“We will make another stand presently, but I wanted to be 
getting on. They will get stronger every minute, and we shall 
have to fight hard presently. Do you see that the schooner 
has gone? ” 


172 


IN GREEK WATERS 


An exclamation broke both from Mr. Beveridge and Horace. 
In the excitement of the fight neither of them had thought of 
the schooner. 

“There she is, five-and-twenty miles away to the north¬ 
west, with two Turkish frigates lumbering after her.” 

The firing had ceased; the yells of the Turks rose loudly in 
the air, but they were fully two or three hundred yards in the 
rear. 

“We are in plenty of time,” Martyn said. “We will line 
the other side of that flat step when we reach it. We can 
keep them back there for some time.” 

There was no attempt at keeping in order, the path was too 
steep and broken; but they went down running and leaping, 
each as he best could. Down the path, in front, was a long 
straggling line of Greeks, with the sailors, keeping in two 
distinct bodies, among them. As soon as the head of the line 
came down on to the flat step in the hill they spread out right 
and left, and in less than ten minutes from the issue of the 
order to retreat the hundred and eighty men were lying down 
along the lower edge of the level ground, which was some forty 
yards across, the centre of the position being left vacant for 
the last party that arrived. The instant the rear-guard threw 
themselves down they opened a heavy fire upon the Turks, 
who were crowding down the path. Horace was lying next 
to his father. 

“Do keep your head lower, father,” he said, as the Turks 
left the path and bounded in among the rocks and shrubs and 
opened fire. 

“But I can’t take aim if I don’t see, Horace.” 

“No, father, that is right enough; but you might move a 
foot or two back, so as to be in shelter while you are loading. 
Then, if you push your rifle up before you, you would only 
have to raise your head to look along the barrel and fire. Some 
of these mountain fellows are good shots.” 

The firing in front of them increased every moment as the 
Turks poured down and took up their positions, until puffs of 


RESCUED 


173 


smoke seemed to dart out from every bush and rock. Martyn 
now went along the line posting the men. Horace’s party 
were left lying thickly opposite the path, in case the Turks 
should attempt a rush. The rest were disposed two yards 
apart, the sailors being placed at regular intervals among the 
Greeks. Fortunately the ground fell sharp away from the flat, 
so that even from the higher ground those lying behind it 
were completely sheltered, except when raising their heads to 
fire. This, by Martyn’s orders, they did but seldom. 

“Let them blaze away as much as they like,” he said, “they 
do us no harm. The great thing is to have every musket 
loaded in case they make up their minds to try a rush, and I 
don’t think they will do that. The more smoke they make 
the better, for it prevents them taking aim. We can stop 
them here for hours, as long as they don’t work round our 
flanks.” 

Satisfied that all was going on well, Martyn returned to Mr. 
Beveridge. 

“We have stopped them for the time effectually, sir.” 

“Yes, this is a capital position, Martyn.” 

“ Capital as far as it goes, sir. Of course if these fellows 
were soldiers they would either gather and make a rush, or 
march away and work round our flanks; but being only peas¬ 
ants, there is no one to command, and every man fights for 
himself. Macfarlane is at work with the wounded.” 

“Did you lose many men in your retreat, Martyn? ” 

“No; three of the Greeks were killed and half a dozen of 
them were wounded, fortunately not severely. Two of our 
own fellows were hit, but neither of them badly. I have sent 
them and the Greeks on ahead to join the women on the 
shore. Tarleton lost two Greeks, killed, and had about as 
many wounded as I had. One poor fellow was so badly hit 
that he could not keep up with the others on the retreat. 
Two of our men tried to carry him; but it hurt him so much 
that he begged them to put him down; and as soon as they 
did he drew his pistol and shot himself. So, altogether, we 


174 


IN GREEK WATERS 


have lost six, which is little enough, considering we are more 
than half-way down to the shore.” 

“ If they do try to outflank us, I suppose we must fall back 
again?” 

“ Yes, if they succeed we must do so. Of course we shall 
try to prevent it. Directly I see any signs of their trying it 
on, I shall make a strong effort to drive them back; but I 
don’t think they will try it at present, the sole object of each 
man seems to be to fire away his ammunition as quickly as he 
can. I have just been giving orders to the Greeks and our 
fellows to shove their caps up in front of them on the ends of 
their ramrods, so as to encourage the Turks to keep on firing, 
and to push a musket up and fire occasionally, without raising 
their heads to take aim. The smoke hanging about along the 
line will hide the trick of the caps, and the shots will keep the 
Turks blazing away.” 

For two hours the firing continued; but towards the end of 
that time it slackened considerably. 

“ I expect a good many of them are running short of ammu¬ 
nition,” Martyn said. “Now they have done firing they will 
have time to talk a bit, and may arrange to march off some¬ 
where, and come down between us and the shore; so I think 
it is time for us to be making a move. I will go along and 
tell every third man to fall back at once. I think, Mr. Bever¬ 
idge, it would be as well that you should go with them. I 
shall send Tarleton in command, and tell him to pick out a 
spot, from a hundred to three hundred yards from the shore, 
and place the men in position there. Five minutes later you 
shall pick out every second man, Horace, and go down and 
join them. We will keep up a more rapid fire now, so that 
they sha’n’t have any idea we are falling back. Of course, 
when you join Tarleton, you will take up your position with 
him. I shall be down five minutes after you. When we are 
all there we can form a semicircle, with the ends resting on 
the sea, and there will be an end of this constant fear of bein^ 
outflanked.” 45 


RESCUED 


175 


Five minutes later Tarleton, with a third of the men, went 
off at the double down the path. Those left behind renewed 
their fire, taking aim among the rocks and bushes, and this at 
once provoked a fresh outburst of firing on the part of the 
Turks. In a short time Martyn told Horace to get his men 
together and be off, and in twenty minutes he joined Tarleton, 
who had taken up his post at a little more than a hundred 
yards from the shore. The men were slashing down bushes 
with their cutlasses, and piling them and stones so as to make 
a low breastwork. The party Horace had brought at once 
joined in the work. 

“It is a screen we want more than a defence,” Tarleton 
said. “You see we are commanded everywhere from the hill, 
but these bushes will hide us, and they will only be able to 
fire into them at random; besides, we want them cut down in 
front of us to be able to use our guns.” 

They were soon joined by the rear-guard. 

“The Turks must be some distance behind,” Martyn said. 
“We could hear them blazing away when we were nearly half 
a mile on the road. That is a good work, Mr. Tarleton; we 
shall get it finished by the time they come.” 

So strong a party made quick work of it, and in another 
quarter of an hour the screen of bushes was completed down 
to the shore on either side, the sweep being some three hun¬ 
dred yards in length, and the breastwork in most places three 
feet high. 

“It won’t keep out bullets,” Martyn said; “but from the 
distance they won’t see how thin it is. At any rate it is a 
good screen.” 

The whole of the Greeks and twenty of the sailors were 
placed at intervals of about six feet apart behind the screen, 
and each man was told to dig up the soil with a knife or cut¬ 
lass in front of him, and with that and a few rocks to make a 
protection for himself against stray bullets. The other twenty 
sailors Martyn retained under his own command to carry to 
the assistance of the defenders at any point against which a 


176 


IN GREEK WATERS 


serious attack might be made. Mr. Beveridge had gone down 
at once to the women and children who were sitting under 
shelter of the bank by the sea-shore, and cheered them by 
assurances that the schooner would be sure to return some time 
during the night. It was not until a quarter of an hour after 
the screen had been completed that parties of Turks could be 
seen descending the side of the hill. They did not seem to 
be hurrying. 

“They think they have got us in a trap, Horace,” Tarleton 
said, “ and that they have only to wait a bit to starve us out. 
Perhaps it is just as well the schooner made off, for it would 
have been hot work all getting on board under their fire, 
whereas now we shall be able to slip off in the dark almost 
without their knowing it.” 

When the Turks approached to within a distance of three or 
four hundred yards of the breastwork, the party with the rifles 
opened fire upon them, and they at once fell back some little 
distance. For half an hour nothing was done, and then a 
party of fifty or sixty men were seen reascending the hill. 

“They are going to make a siege of it,” Martyn said. 
“They don’t like the look of this breastwork.” 

“But what are they sending the men away for, Martyn?” 
Horace asked. 

“Because it is just as necessary for them to eat and drink, 
Horace, as it is'for us. We have got our water-bottles and 
biscuits, and the Greeks have all brought something with 
them; they were warned to do so before they started. But 
those gentlemen all came off in a hurry. I don’t expect any 
of them had breakfast, and in the excitement not one in twenty 
is likely to have caught up as much as a gourd of water, so I 
have no doubt those men you see going up the hill are on their 
way to their villages for a supply of food and water, and per¬ 
haps to get some more ammunition if they can find any. I 
will warrant half those fellows in front of us have fired away 
their last shot. Vou will see they won’t disturb us any more 
to-day.” 


RESCUED 


177 


A few shots only were fired from either side during the 
course of the day, this apparently being done on the part of 
the Turks from pure bravado, as they generally showed them¬ 
selves conspicuously, brandished their long guns over their 
heads, and shouted defiantly before firing. Onfe of them, 
however, having been shot by a sailor armed with ; a rifle, the 
amusement ceased, and during the afternoon all was quiet. An 
anxious look-out was kept seaward all day. At five in the 
afternoon one of the sailors sang out, “Sail, ho!” 

“Where away, Baldock?” 

“About west-north-west I should say, sir, though I ain’t 
sure of my bearings here.” 

Martyn went up to where the man was standing on a rock 
that projected eight or ten feet above the surrounding ground, 
a position which would have been dangerous had not the 
Turks been almost out of range. 

“There, sir, do you see just under that streak of white 
cloud? it is a little black patch.” 

“I see it, Baldock.” 

“I believe it is the schooner’s gaff top-sail, sir; it is too 
narrow for a square sail.” 

“ I think you are right, Baldock. It might be the peak of 
one of the native lateen sails, but I think it is too far away 
for that. It is about the direction we might expect the 
schooner to come from. She was more to the north-west when 
we saw her last, but to get round the Turks she would have to 
bear either one way or the other, and if she ran to the south 
that is just about where she would be on her way back. Hullo! 
that was a near shave; we had better get off this, Baldock.” 

“Are you hit, sir? ” 

“Yes, but I don’t think it is of any consequence; it is 
in the arm, but as I can move it all right, it is only through 
the flesh.” 

Half a dozen guns had flashed out in reply to the shot, 
which had been fired from a distance of less than a hundred 
yards, the man having crept through the bushes unseen. 
Martyn’s coat was taken off and his arm bandaged at once. 


178 


IN GREEK WATERS 


“ It is rather foolish to expose yourself like that, Captain 
Martyn,” Mr. Beveridge said as he came up. “Your life is 
too valuable to us all to be risked in that way.” 

“It was rather foolish,” Martyn laughed; “but I thought 
the fellows were out of range, and did not give them credit 
for enterprise. Anyhow there is no great harm done. I 
think we have made out the schooner, sir, and it is worth 
getting a ball through one’s arm to know that she is on her 
way back.” 

“Do you feel sure it is her?” 

• '“Well, I can say that it is not a square top-sail; that is 
certain, and it must either be her gaff top-sail or the peak of 
a lateen sail of one of these native craft; but I think it is the 
schooner. If it is, we sha’n’t be long before we can make out 
her fore-top gallant-sail. No native craft carries a lateen 
and anything like a square sail.” 

“If it is the schooner, how far is she off, do you think?” 

“ Five-and-twenty miles, I should say. There is not much 
breeze, but that is all the better, for she will be slipping Along 
now at least two knots to the Turks’ one, while in a strong 
breeze she would not go more than live to their four. It is 
five o’clock now, and though we can’t feel any wind here, I 
expect she is making five or six knots an hour. Anyhow sjie 
ought to be here between ten and twelve.” 

A quarter of an hour later Baldock said: “May I take 
another squint from the look-out, sir? ” 

“Yes, but don’t stand there long, Baldock. I expect that 
fellow has moved off again if he was not hit by any of our 
shots. Still it is as well not to give him another chance.” 

Baldock stood on the rock shading his eyes from the light 
of the western sun, which was now getting near the horizon. 
For a minute or two he stood uncertain, and then said: 

“ It is the schooner, sir, sure enough. I can just make out 
a black line below the sail; that must be her fore-top gallant- 
sail just showing.” 

A cheer broke from the sailors lying along the shelter of 
the screen of bushes. 


RESCUED 


179 


“ That is good news, Baldock, ” Martyn said. “ Come down 
now; another half-hour will settle it anyhow, and there will 
be light enough till then.” 

The next observation settled the question. It was certainly 
a square sail underneath the sharp peak of a gaff top-sail. The 
joy of the Greeks was extreme when they heard that the 
vessel that was to carry them away was in sight. 

“The schooner will be in a nice mess,” Martyn grumbled 
to Tarleton. “With what there are on board now, and all 
these, there will be something like six hundred of them; a 
nice cargo that.” 

“There is one thing,” Horace laughed, “I expect she has 
carried as many before.” 

“Yes, I daresay she has takfcn six hundred slaves, but we 
can’t pack these Greeks as they pack slaves. There will be 
no moving on board, and as to fighting the guns if we fall in 
with a Turk, it will be well-nigh impossible. Why, she will 
be as deep in the water as she was when we sailed out of 
Plymouth. What is the weight of them all, Horace, do you 
suppose? ” 

“Not very great, Captain Martyn. I don’t suppose there 
are a dozen of the men weigh over ten stone. I suppose the 
women average seven, and the children, counting babies, say 
four. As there are as many children as there are men, that 
would make the average seven stone all round, but even if you 
said eight stone, which is a hundredweight, and they are cer¬ 
tainly not that, or anything near it, that would make thirty 
tons, and it won’t be over that if you throw in all the bundles. 
You calculated that you got fifty tons out of her hold.” 

“Oh, well, that is not so bad. If it comes on to blow we 
will make shifting ballast of them, and pack them all up to 
windward on both decks; that ought to make her as stiff as a 
church. It will be a big job getting them all on board to¬ 
night. There is one thing, I don’t suppose the Turks have 
made her out. Of course they don’t know that we are expect¬ 
ing a vessel, or anything about her rig. We must make a fire 


180 


IN GREEK WATERS 


down on the shore as soon as it gets dark, and keep a sharp 
look-out for her, putting the fire out as soon as she is near 
enough for th£ light to begin to show on her sails. Then we 
will open fire all along the line as if we thought we heard them 
creeping up towards us, and that will cover the rattling of the 
anchor chain. I will hail Miller to muffle the oars, and in 
that way we may manage to get most of them on board at any 
rate before the Turks have an idea of what is going on. By 
firing an occasional shot we shall keep their attention fixed, 
and gradually withdraw from the line as we did from that 
place we held up there.” 


CHAPTER X 

A DARING EXPLOIT 

S OON after nine o’clock Will Martyn took his post on the 
shore at the northern end of the position. A dropping 
fire was kept up all round the semicircle, as if the defenders 
feared that the assailants might be trying to crawl up towards 
them. Martyn continued to listen intently for half an hour, 
then he thought he heard a sound on the water. In another 
minute or two he could make out the sound of voices. 

“ Miller has got his head screwed on the right way,” he said 
to himself. “ He is showing no lights. ” Another five minutes 
and he could dimly make out the outline of the schooner. 

“Misericordia ahoy!” he shouted. 

“Ay, ay,” came across the water. 

“I am going to put out the fire so that the light won’t show 
on your sails, and in a minute or two I am going to open fire 
heavily to cover the rattle of the chains. Directly you hear 
us begin let go the anchor; don’t answer.” 

Horace was standing by the fire, and he at once scattered 
the brands and threw sand over them. Martyn ran up to the 





A DARING EXPLOIT 


181 


front of the position and shouted, “ Open fire ! ” and the rattle 
of musketry broke out all round the screen. The Turks, sur¬ 
prised at the sudden din, and fearing that a sortie was going 
to be made, replied briskly, and for four or five minutes the 
fire was maintained. Horace down on the shore heard the 
rattle of the anchor chain and the creaking of the blocks, 
followed shortly by the sound of the tackle as the boats were 
lowered. 

“Please muffle the oars, Mr. Miller!” he shouted, and the 
answering hail came across the water. Twelve of the sailors 
came down from their posts to assist with the boats, and in 
three or four minutes there was a slight splash of oars, and 
the four boats of the schooner ran gently ashore. 

“All well, I hope? ” Tom Burdett asked as he jumped out. 

“ All well, Tom, with the exception of about half a dozen 
slightly wounded.” 

“Thank God!” the boatswain said. “I tell you we felt 
mighty sore at having to run away and leave you just at day¬ 
break this morning, and you can’t tell how glad we were when 
we caught sight of the fire first and then made out the popping 
of the guns. Have you got the Greeks out, Mr. Horace?” 

“Yes, there are over five hundred of them here.” 

“ My eye! ” the sailor said, “ that is something like a 
cargo.” 

“ I have got twelve men here, Tom. That will give you 
four and a helmsman to each boat with what you have got. 
Has Marco come ashore with you?” 

“Yes, Mr. Horace. I thought I might be useful if you had 
got the Christians with you.” 

“Yes, that is what I wanted you for, Marco. Now, then,” 
he said to the women who were clustered behind him, “take 
your places in the boats. Help them in, lads; there are lots 
of children among them. You need not be afraid of packing 
them closely so long as you leave yourselves room to row, for 
there is not a ripple on the water. Father, would you mind 
going off with the first lot?” he said as Mr. Beveridge came 


182 


IN GREEK WATERS 


up. “ Marco has come ashore to help here, and Mr. Miller 
does not talk their language. If you take Zaimes with you he 
can help settle them down as they come on board. Mind, 
lads, you are to make as little noise as you can. There are 
six hundred of those Turks lying round us, and if they got a 
notion of what was going on they would be coming on us like 
a pack of wolves, and in the dark they would be among us 
before we knew that they were coming, and your first boat¬ 
load would be your last. Impress upon the Greeks, father, 
when they get on board, that not a word must be spoken.” 

“Mr. Miller will see to that, sir, no doubt,” the boatswain 
said. “He has got the whole lot of them down between 
decks, and he and Bill Scoons have got the deck to them¬ 
selves.” 

The women and children were crowded into the boats, 
which were first backed stern on shore to allow them to enter. 
The sailors lifted the children, and wading into the water put 
them in. The smaller boats pushed off as soon as they were 
filled, and they were back again just after the two larger ones 
started. The schooner was but a hundred yards away, and 
so quickly did the work go on that in little more than a quarter 
of an hour the last batch of women and children left the shore. 
Horace directed Marco to see that the wounded were care¬ 
fully lifted into the next boat, and to go on board with them; 
he then ran up to Martyn. The continuous fire had ceased 
now, but dropping shots were kept up all round the position. 

“The last batch has gone on board, Captain Martyn,” he 
reported. 

“Thank God for that, Horace! That is a load off one’s 
mind. It is a smart piece of work to have got them on board 
so soon. I did not expect you for some time yet. I have 
been listening sharply. Of course I heard sounds, but even 
here they were faint, while the Turks, being twice as far 
away, can hardly have heard them, and if they did would not 
have made them out, knowing nothing of what is going on. 
Now do you and Tarleton go off, one each way, and send 


A DARING EXPLOIT 


183 


every third man down to the boats; but if the third man is a 
sailor send the next Greek to him. When you get down to 
the shore go along to the boats and see the men off. As soon 
as they are in the boats start back again, sending the rest of 
the Greeks down to the shore. Then when you join me here 
I shall know that there are only our own men to draw off. 
Tell them all to keep up a pretty sharp fire when the Greeks 
have left.” 

In a very few minutes they were beside him again. “ The 
boats took the first batch off in one trip, sir,” Tarleton 
reported, “and they will be back again by the time the last 
fellows we have sent down get to the shore.” 

“We will give them five minutes and then be off.” 

“Mr. Miller sent word by the boatswain, sir, that he had 
got the guns loaded with grape, and blue lights ready, so that 
if they should at the last moment press you he will sweep the 
hillside as soon as you bring the men down to the shore.” 

“ I hope we shall not want it,” Martyn said; “but it is well 
to be on the safe side. I am sure we don’t want to kill any 
more of these poor beggars than we can help. Of course they 
wanted to massacre the Christians, but as they know their own 
people have been massacred in tens of thousands by the 
Greeks, it is only human nature they should take revenge. 
Anyhow I am glad there has not been much bloodshed. The 
only time we got fairly at them was when they first gathered 
for a charge at that olive grove, and again when they came 
down the path to that place where we stopped them. Of 
course a few fell while we were falling back, but I should say 
that from forty to fifty would be quite the outside; and likely 
enough it may not have been half that. It has been a much 
easier business than I expected. I must say, when we first 
got into the village and I saw what a crowd of women and 
children there were there I thought we were going to have a 
very tough job before we got on board the schooner again. 
Now I think we can fall back. Go down to the shore again, 
please, and start the men from that end, so that we can keep 
on firing from here up to the last moment.” 


184 


IN GREEK WATERS 


In a very few minutes the last of the defenders stepped into 
the boats and rowed off to the ship. 

“All safe, Captain Martyn? ” Miller’s voice asked as the 
boats came alongside. 

“All safe, Mr. Miller.” 

“Then we will give a hearty cheer, sir. They will know in 
a few minutes that you have gone, and it will make no differ¬ 
ence. Now, lads, all together.” 

And three hearty cheers broke from the English sailors, 
swelled by shouts and yells from the Greeks clustered on deck. 
As they stepped on to the deck Miller shook hands heartily 
with Martyn, Tarleton, and Horace. 

“Thank Heaven you are all back safe again!” he said, 
“and, as I hear, without the loss of a single life. We have 
had an anxious time of it, as you may guess, since you have 
been away. I suppose we may as well get the boats up, sir? ” 

“Certainly. We sha’n’t want to go ashore again, Miller.” 
The boatswain’s whistle rang out, the falls were hooked on, 
and the boats run up to the davits. 

“Don’t swing them in at present,” Martyn said. “We 
want all our room on deck. What have you done about the 
Greeks, Miller?” 

“ The cook had a big copper of soup ready, and they each 
had a basin as they came on board. We have given up the 
whole of the lower deck to the women and children. Our 
fellows and the men sleep on deck.” 

“ I thought that was how you would manage, Miller; indeed 
I don’t see any other way that it could be done.” 

“I have got all the scuttles open down below,” Miller said, 
“and the hatchways off, so I think they will manage. It will 
be pretty close, no doubt, but none of these people are par¬ 
ticularly fond of fresh air.” 

“You have got supper ready for the men, I hope, Miller. 
They had something to eat in the village at daybreak, and 
they have had the biscuits they took with them; but I expect 
they are all ready for a regular meal. Of course they will 
have a ration of grog all round.” 


A DARING EXPLOIT 


185 


“I have seen to all that, sir, and Marco came up just before 
you came alongside, to say that supper would be ready for us 
in five minutes. How he managed it I don’t know, for he, 
Mr. Beveridge, and Zaimes have been busy settling the women 
below ever since they came on board. How did the chief get 
through it?” 

“As well as anyone, except in the climbing. There is a 
lot more in him than we thought, Miller. I watched him when 
he was loading and firing, and he was just as cool and quiet 
as if he was sitting here on the quarter-deck, and what was 
better, he always fell in with what I suggested without any 
talk or argument, and if I were asked I should say that he 
really enjoyed the whole business. I have never seen him 
look so bright and animated. Well, I am quite ready for 
supper; at least I shall be when 1 have had a wash.” 

In a short time the party in the cabin was seated at supper. 
All were in the highest spirits. Their enterprise had been a 
complete success in every respect, and they were the more 
pleased that it had been accomplished without the loss of 
a single life on the part of the crew. The supper was not 
quite so varied as usual, and Marco apologized for its short¬ 
comings. 

“There is no occasion to say a word, Marco. It is excel¬ 
lent,” Martyn Said. “I don’t know how on earth you have 
managed it.” 

“ I had most of it ready before we dropped anchor, Captain 
Martyn,”.he said, “but I went ashore with the boats and have 
been helping with the women until a few minutes ago, so I 
have not had time to finish the things properly; but I thought 
you would rather have them so than wait.” 

“Much rather, Marco. Now, Miller, let us hear your re¬ 
port. I have not had time to ask you a single question since 
I came on board. We made you out from the top of the hill 
twenty-five miles away, with two Turkish frigates after you.” 

“Yes,” Miller said, “we were as near as possible caught in 
a trap. It was lucky I had had the anchor buoyed and the 


186 


IN GREEK WATERS 


chain ready to slip. Of course we kept a sharp watch all 
night; I was on deck half an hour before day began to break, 
for I knew that that was the dangerous time. It was very 
dark then.” 

“Yes, we know that,” Martyn put in. “We pretty nearly 
broke our necks scrambling along the face of a hill nearly as 
steep as a wall.” 

“Just as the first gleam of daylight came,” Miller went on, 
“ I made out two large craft coming along about a mile and a 
half from shore. They were not quite abreast of us, perhaps 
half a mile south. You may guess we lost no time in slipping 
the chain and getting up our head sails. Fortunately there 
was enough breeze even in here to fill our sails. I knew they 
could not make us out as yet, lying in here under the shadow 
of the land, and, indeed, I was half inclined for a moment to 
lower the sails and trust to their not making us out at all, but 
as it would soon be light, and no doubt they would be keep¬ 
ing a sharp look-out for us, I saw it wouldn’t do. It was not 
long before I saw that, though, of course, they had a good deal 
more wind than we had, we were holding our own with them. 

“Ten minutes after we got under weigh they made us out 
and changed their course, steering so as to cut us off before 
we were clear of the northern point, while I stood a little 
more out so as to get farther from the shelter of the land and 
catch a little more breeze. They closed a bit with us, and 
one of them began to try the distance with his bow-guns, but 
though we were not quite out of range, the shot went alto¬ 
gether wide of us. I never saw such lubberly shooting. We 
were better than a mile ahead when we came out beyond the 
point and got the true wind. As soon as I felt her beginning 
to walk along I got a couple of sails overboard to deaden her 
way and stood for the north-west. The Turks got out stun- 
sails and did their best to come up to us, and as the wind was 
pretty fresh they walked along faster than I should have given 
them credit for, and I had to get one of the sails on board 
again to keep my distance. They fired occasionally, but as 1 


A DARING EXPLOIT 


187 


kept them in line they could only bring a couple of bow- 
chasers to bear. 

“ I don’t think we altered our distance by a ship’s length 
for six hours, by which time we were a good thirty miles 
away from the island, and nearly dead to leeward; so I thought 
it was about time to begin to have some amusement. Directly 
we had started I had got the cook to make a tremendous fire 
in the galley, and had put six eighteen-pounder shot in it. I 
kept coal heaped on, and stuck a couple of extra lengths on 
to the chimney to make it draw, and by this time the balls 
were red-hot. We did not begin with them at first, but hav¬ 
ing got the second sail out of water we luffed a little so as to 
get the pivot to bear, and Tom Burdett sent the first shot 
smack into the frigate’s fore-foot. She yawed a bit, and let 
us have four or five of her forward guns on the starboard side, 
and this time a couple of shot went through our sails. As I 
did not want to run any risks I held on till I put another half- 
mile between us; then I began again with the pivot. 

“The boatswain is a capital shot and hulled the leading 
frigate every time. Evidently she did not like it. I expect 
she had no idea that a craft of this size carried such heavy 
metal, and she came up into the wind and gave us a broad¬ 
side. I put the helm down at the same moment as she did 
and returned the compliment. We trained the guns high, 
and as good luck would have it one of the shots struck the 
maintop-mast and down it came bringing the fore and mizzen- 
topgallant masts down with it. We gave a cheer, and the 
Greeks yelled like fiends. I had sent the women and children 
down into the hold, but the men were on deck, and they danced 
about like lunatics when they saw the top hamper of the Turk 
go over her side. We wore round and gave her the other 
broadside, then I set the Greeks to work to load the broadside 
guns, while our fellows went to the pivot again. 

“ Now was the time to try the red-hot shot while she was 
lying broadside on to us, and we plumped the whole six into 
her, one after the other; then we stood off again, for the other 


188 


IN GREEK WATERS 


frigate had come up and was joining in the game. If we had 
had a spar knocked out of us it would have been all up, for 
they each carried something like forty guns. As soon as they 
got pretty well out of range I hauled my wind and stood south. 
The first frigate was still in complete confusion. With my 
glass I could make out the men trying to cut away the wreck, 
but it was not long before I saw a thin wreath of smoke rising 
from her forward hatchway, and presently I saw her ensign 
half hauled down as a signal of distress to her consort, which 
at once gave up the chase, which she must have already seen 
was useless, and bore down to her. Thinking I had done 
enough, and being in such a stew about you all, I left them to 
settle matters as best they could and began to beat back to the 
island. When we were five miles away a pillar of smoke was 
rising from the frigate, and with the glass I could make out 
boats passing backwards and forwards between her and her 
consort, which was lying-to near her; and the last we could 
make out of her was that she was in flames from keel to truck.” 

“Capital, Miller, that was splendidly done! ” Martyn ex¬ 
claimed. “ Fancy a schooner with ten men on board destroy¬ 
ing a forty-gun frigate. That was a capital idea of yours 
of heating the shot.” 

“The cook is in a great way,” Miller laughed, “for we pretty 
well melted the galley, and we shall have to get a fresh one 
next time we put into port. And now tell me about your 
share of the day’s work.” 

“Well, we have done very well,” Martyn said; “but you 
have quite taken down any conceit we may have felt. I quite 
envy you.” 

“You need not do that, Martyn,” Mr. Beveridge said; “one 
may be as proud of saving five hundred lives as of destroying 
a frigate, admirable as the action was. I will tell you about 
our doings. I have no doubt Martyn will be too modest to 
do justice to himself. Ah! what is that?” He broke off as 
he heard the report of a gun, followed by several others. 

“The Turks venting their dissatisfaction,” Martyn said. 


A DARING EXPLOIT 


189 


“ I expected it before this. Of course they heard our cheer, 
but at the distance they were they may not have made out it 
came from the water, and I expect they were some time before 
they crawled forward and found out that our lines were de¬ 
serted. We will fire a round of grape over their heads as a 
hint to them that they had better clear off, and as there is no 
hope of either plunder or blood they will not care about risk¬ 
ing their lives for nothing. Will you go up, Mr. Tarleton, and 
just touch off one of the port guns. Don’t fire in the direc¬ 
tion they are shooting from. We only want to frighten and 
not to hurt them.” 

In a couple of minutes the vessel quivered as an eighteen- 
pounder sent its contents rattling among the rocks. Tarleton 
soon rejoined the party, and Mr. Beveridge proceeded to relate 
to Miller the events of the day. 

“The next time I land, Mr. Miller,” he concluded, “I shall 
take good care to ascertain the nature of the ground we have 
to cross. I have never been accustomed to active exercise, 
even as a boy I never cared for it; but I could not have be¬ 
lieved that human lungs could have failed in their action so 
completely, or human heart bump as mine did in going up 
that hill. As for the scramble along it in the dark, it was a 
sort of nightmare. Martyn and Zaimes hauled me along like 
a helpless bundle. I was only conscious of my feet continually 
slipping from under me, of grasping at the grass, of having 
my knees bruised against rocks, and of thinking every moment 
that my coat collar must give way and that I must roll to the 
bottom of the hill. Zaimes had hold of that, and Martyn of 
my arm, and I should say that my flesh will be black and blue 
for weeks. I mentally registered a vow that though I was 
ready to fight for the Greeks I was not ready, and never would 
again undertake to climb among mountains for them. There 
is a limit to the endurance of human nature, and the limit was 
very distinctly passed upon that occasion. Moreover, my 
dignity as a man suffered. I was humiliated at my own help¬ 
lessness, and was deeply impressed with the thought that my 


190 


IN GREEK WATERS 


whole life had been a mistake when it resulted in my being 
hauled along by Zaimes, who is a year or two older than I 
am, I believe. I made a resolution to practise athletic exer¬ 
cises, but I am afraid that, like many other good resolutions, 
it will be dropped with the memory of that terrible hour.” • 

“Where are you thinking of landing all these people, Mr. 
Beveridge? ” 

“ I have not the least idea, Martyn. Where do you think? ” 

“ So that we get rid of them as quickly as possible, sir, it 
doesn’t matter in the slightest. There is one thing certain, it 
will be weeks before we shall get the decks white again, and 
I should say that a thorough fumigation of her from stern to 
stern will be advisable. I don’t suppose the British authori¬ 
ties would be grateful to us if we were to dump them all down 
in Zante or Corfu, because it is certain they would have to 
feed the greater portion of them for a considerable time. 
On the other hand, if you land them at any Greek port there 
is a very strong risk of their all dying of starvation; the new 
government have other things to think about.” 

“It is very awkward, Captain Martyn, very awkward,” Mr. 
Beveridge said seriously. “ However, it is evident that now 
we have rescued them they can’t be allowed to starve.” 

“There is one thing, father,” Horace put in. “I think 
that money would be much better laid out in feeding them 
than in enabling the politicians and the Klephts to spend it in 
gaudy dresses and in keeping bands of armed ruffians round 
them.” 

“ Certainly it would, Horace. As to where they had better 
be landed, I should say that we might give them their choice 
of say four or five places. It would be much better that they 
should be divided, as they would in that way be more likely 
to get employment than if they were all turned out at one 
place. Some might be landed at some of the Greek islands, 
some in the Morea, others at Athens, and some, perhaps, in 
the Ionian Islands, where they would be under the British 


A DARING EXPLOIT 


191 


“ I think they would be a deal better off there, father, than 
in Greece or the Greek islands, where at present everyone is 
thinking of war, and the fields are going out of cultivation. 
They certainly would do a great deal better in Corfu, Cepha- 
lonia, and the other islands than they would elsewhere; and 
if they were landed in small batches they might find work. I 
expect most of them have got a little money, and as living is 
very cheap, if you were to give them a couple of pounds a 
head it would enable them to live a long time while they are 
looking for work. Besides, there are committees on those 
islands for helping refugees; so I do think it would be better 
to land all those who have no friends in Greece, or any par¬ 
ticular wish to go there, in our islands. I should say Zaimes 
and Marco might go round among them in the morning and 
ask if any of them have friends in the Greek islands or the 
mainland, and to put it to the others, that though they can be 
landed in Greece if they like, they will probably be better off 
and certainly much more free from anxiety and danger, in 
the Ionian Isles.” 

“I think that that would be a very good plan,” Mr. Bever¬ 
idge said. “When are you going to get under sail again, 
Captain Martyn?” 

“As soon as I have finished this cup of coffee, Mr. Bever¬ 
idge, we will get a boat lowered and find the buoy and pick 
up the anchor Miller slipped this morning. I don’t want to 
lose that, and the chain. As soon as we have got it on board 
we will be off. There is not much breeze here after dark, but 
we may as well get what benefit we can from it. I have no 
fear of the other Turkish frigate looking in here on her way 
back; and if she did, now that we have got all our crew on 
board, I have no doubt we could give a good account of her. 
But I want to be under weigh. There will be no comfort on 
board till we have got rid of our passengers. Whereabout do 
you think the buoy is lying, Miller?” 

“ I fancy we were anchored a couple of hundred yards or so 
farther out, and a quarter of a mile astern. You know where 


192 


IN GREEK WATERS 


you landed last night. You had to march along the beach 
some little distance before you came to the path on the hills.” 

“That is so, Miller. I am afraid we shall have some little 
trouble in finding it. However, we will have a try. It is 
just eight bells now, and it won’t be light for another six 
hours. I don’t want to waste that time if I can help it.” 

“Well, I will take one of the gigs, and Tarleton can take 
the other. We will take some blue lights with us, and I ex¬ 
pect we shall soon find it.” 

“Very well. Directly you do, hang on to the buoy-rope 
and get the end of the chain into your gig. Hail me, and 
send Tarleton back. We will get up her anchor at once, and 
the gig and the long-boat shall tow the schooner up to you. 
Then you can pass the end of the chain on board, and we will 
get it round the capstan and have the anchor up in no time. 
Now, Mr. Beveridge, if you will take my advice you will turn 
in at once. You only got a couple of hours’ sleep last night 
in that orchard, and have had twenty-four hours’ really hard 
work.” 

“I will take your advice, Martyn;” and Mr. Beveridge 
touched the hand-bell beside him. “ Marco, you must help 
me to my cabin, for I am so stiff I don’t think I could get out 
of my chair by myself.” 

“We will help you in, sir,” Martyn said; and he and Miller 
raised Mr. Beveridge from his chair and almost carried him 
into his cabin. Then they lit their pipes and went on deck. 

The buoy was found after a few minutes’ search, and in 
another ten minutes the schooner was under weigh and steal¬ 
ing out from the land. 

“I will take the watch,” Miller said. “You had better all 
turn in. I will put a couple of the hands who remained with 
me at the wheel, and let all the rest lie down. As they will 
be on deck one can rouse them up in a minute if they are 
wanted.” 

The next day the two Greeks went among the fugitives and 
questioned the heads of each family as to the number of their 


A DARING EXPLOIT 


193 


party, the means they possessed, and whether they had any 
friends in Greece. Most of them possessed a little money, 
the proceeds of their last harvest and vintage, and some eight 
or ten had sums varying from a hundred to four hundred 
pounds, besides the jewels of their females, which, in their 
cases, were of considerable value. Some of the poorer ones 
had literally nothing beyond the clothes in which they stood 
and a few almost worthless trinkets. There were not half a 
dozen of the whole number who had friends or connections in 
Greece. Some thirty of the unmarried men expressed their 
desire to join the Greek army and fight against the Turks; 
the rest thankfully embraced the offer of being landed on 
islands under the protection of the British flag. It took a 
whole day to ascertain all these particulars, and on the fol¬ 
lowing day the exiles were asked to divide themselves into par¬ 
ties according to the villages from which they came, in order 
that acquaintances and relations should be landed together. 

When this had been done, Zaimes distributed, in the name 
of Mr. Beveridge, to the head of each family a sum amount¬ 
ing to two pounds for each of its members, except to those 
whose resources were sufficient to maintain them for a con¬ 
siderable time. 

The wind was very light, and it was six days after they 
weighed anchor before they entered the port of Zant£. Another 
week was spent in landing the fugitives among the Ionian 
Islands, each party being in proportion to the size of the 
island and the facilities of obtaining employment there. The 
gratitude of the poor people to Mr. Beveridge, and indeed to 
all on board the . schooner, was very great, but they were all 
much depressed on landing. At first their delight at having 
escaped with their lives was unbounded. But as the days 
went on, and the feeling that they had lost all else, were sepa¬ 
rated for ever from their birthplace and home, and were in 
future to live among strangers, overwhelmed them. 

Mr. Beveridge went a great deal among them, and endeav¬ 
oured to.cheer them with the assurance that the war could not 


194 


IN GREEK WATERS 


last very long, and that at its termination, whenever that might 
be, there would certainly be a general amnesty, and that all 
fugitives would then be permitted to return to their homes. 
He therefore advised them to keep this always in mind, and 
to lay by every penny they could spare of their earnings, 
so that they woul4 eventually be able to return to Cyprus and 
resume their former life. When the Misericordia left Cyprus 
there remained on board only some half a dozen families who 
had friends in Greece, and the young men who intended to 
join the Greek army. Never did a vessel undergo a more 
thorough washing and cleaning up than the schooner on her 
voyage round to Athens. The deck was scrubbed and holy¬ 
stoned twice a day; the lower deck was equally cleaned, and, 
in addition, the woodwork received two coats of fresh paint, 
after having been thoroughly fumigated. 

“The Greeks may have their virtues,” Martyn remarked to 
Miller, “but cleanliness on board ship is marked by its 
absence.” 

“There is no doubt about that,” Miller agreed. “I have 
always heard that a cargo of Mohammedan pilgrims to Mecca 
was about the most painful experience a sailor could have; 
but I back the Greeks against them. I don’t think the 
schooner herself liked it. She seemed to have lost all her 
liveliness and to be depressed at being turned into a human 
pig-stye. I don’t believe it was worse between decks when 
she had a cargo of slaves on board.” 

“Mr. Beveridge has just told me,” Martyn said, “that I am 
to tell the crew that at the next pay he shall give three pounds' 
a head to each man as a reward for their work at Cyprus and 
the inconveniences they have been since put to.” 

“They will appreciate that,” Miller said. “They certainly 
have been put about a good deal, and they will be pleased at 
the recognition of it as much as with the money. Besides, 
the same thing may happen again, and it is a good thing to 
keep them all in a good humour, especially as at present there 
hasn’t been any chance whatever of prize-money.” 


A DARING EXPLOIT 


195 


“What are the next orders, sir?” Martyn asked Mr. Bever¬ 
idge when they had finished supper. 

“There will be nothing particular going on for some time, 
I should imagine, Captain Martyn. The Turkish army does 
not seem to be ready to advance, and the Greeks are not 
troubling themselves to get up an army at all. After the last 
affair every man made off with the booty he had gathered to 
his own village; and there, I am afraid, they are all likely to 
stay till a Turkish army invades them. Athens and Nauplia 
may hold out for some time longer—for weeks, perhaps, pos¬ 
sibly for months. Therefore, for the present I leave it 
entirely with you to cruise where you think best.” 

“Then, sir, we will go south. Since we have come out we 
have not taken a prize worth having; and I think that as 
prize-money was certainly one of the inducements held out to 
the sailors when they joined, we might as well try to pick up 
a few Turkish merchantmen. There is no doubt that the 
ships from Smyrna and all the Syrian ports, as well as from 
the islands, keep near land, and that even those bound for 
Alexandria and the African ports coast round there also. 
Some of these no doubt carry rich cargoes, and many will be 
taking Greek slaves to Alexandria and Tunis; so we shall be 
carrying out your object by releasing them, as well as picking 
up some prize-money. I think the men well deserve a little 
indulgence in this way. Their work has not been altogether 
pleasant for some time. They have been turned out of their 
quarters, and have had to sleep under the awning forward. I 
have heard no grumbling among them, for I am sure they 
were glad to do all they could to help the poor creatures we 
have had on board. Still, they will be glad of a chance of 
what they would consider legitimate business.” 

“Very well, Captain Martyn, let it be so. I quite agree 
with you as to the excellent conduct of the men. They have 
certainly had a good deal of hardship to put up with, for every¬ 
thing has been very uncomfortable since our visit to Cyprus.” 

In a few minutes the boatswain’s whistle was heard, followed 


196 


IN GREEK WATERS 


by the tramp of the men round the capstan and the stir of 
getting up sail. Then the watch was set, and the schooner 
sped along under a gentle breeze towards the south. 

For the next two months the Misericordia cruised on the 
coast of Syria. Scarce a day passed without some vessel 
being overhauled. Many of these were small coasters laden 
only with grain or other cargoes of small value. These were 
permitted to proceed on their way without interference. Of 
the larger vessels some contained mixed cargoes. In the 
cases where no Greek captives were on board, the valuable 
portion of the cargo was transferred to the schooner, and the 
ship was then permitted to proceed on her voyage. Where 
Greek slaves were found on board, the captain was given the 
choice of having the vessel burned, or giving a bond for an 
amount equal to half her estimated value and that of the cargo, 
signed by himself, the representative of the owners, if there 
was one on board, and the principal passengers. 

These bonds could not, perhaps, have been enforced in any 
court; but Mr. Beveridge had confidence in the honesty of 
the Turks, and in every case the amounts were duly forwarded 
to the agents he named. Seven ships contained valuable 
cargoes of silks, tobacco, and wine. These were all bound 
for Alexandria and Tunis, and carried a considerable number 
of Greek women and children, the survivors of massacres in 
towns in Asia Minor. In these cases the Turks were all placed 
in their boats within two or three miles of land, and the vessels 
with prize crews on board were consigned to Greeks at Corinth 
and Athens, who had undertaken to act as Mr. Beveridge’s 
agents, and who were to dispose of them and their cargoes to 
Greek merchants. 


IN THE HANDS OF THE TURKS 


197 


CHAPTER XI 


IN THE HANDS OF THE TURKS 



OWARDS the end of the cruise the schooner had just 


1 returned to the coast of Asia Minor after having run across 
to Athens and taken on board the officers and men who had 
sailed the last prizes taken there. On the day after they took 
up their place on their cruising ground they fell in with a 
large polacca brig. The vessel mounted ten small guns, and 
fought with some obstinacy, and it was not until Martyn 
placed the schooner so that she could rake the brig’s decks, 
which were crowded with men, that she hauled down her flag. 

“Lower two boats, Miller. You take charge of one and 
Tarleton the other. By the look of those fellows I don’t 
believe they are Turks at all. I believe they'are from Algiers 
or Tunis; pirates at ordinary times, but who have come here 
to pick up slaves cheap. They are treacherous beggars, so be 
on your guard. There is a very strong crew. Don’t row 
alongside till I lay the schooner broadside on.” 

In five minutes Miller hailed from the deck of the prize, 
“You are right, sir, they are Algerines, and as cut-throat a 
looking lot as ever I came across. She is crowded below with 
Greek women and girls, and as far as I can see at present she 
has no cargo of any sort. I have sent one of the boats for 
Marco. He can speak to the women, who are making a fear¬ 
ful hubbub down below.” 

“Have you disarmed the crew, Mr. Miller?” 

“ Mr. Tarleton has just finished that. We have had to knock 
a good many of the scoundrels down. They are as savage as 
wildcats.” 

The schooner was brought alongside the polacca and lashed 
there. The deck of the prize showed that the fire of the 
schooner had been terribly destructive. Over twenty bodies 
lay scattered about, principally round the guns. 


198 


IN GREEK WATERS 


“ Are they all dead ? ” Martyn asked as he stepped on board. 

“They are all dead now, but they were not when we 
boarded her. But as they lay there they fired their pistols 
among us. Two or three pretended to be dead, and then 
sprang up, knife in hand, and several of the men have got 
nasty cuts; so that was soon put a stop to. Some of the fel¬ 
lows below made quite a fight of it, and the men had to use 
their cutlasses pretty freely. However, they are all disarmed 
and bound now. I have no doubt they are Algerine pirates, 
and deserve to be hung to the yard-arm every man-jack of 
them.” 

“Have you overhauled the hold yet? ” 

“Yes, sir. It is filled with these unhappy slaves. She evi¬ 
dently came merely in ballast, with money to buy them.” 

“Well, no doubt these fellows have been pirates, Mr. Miller, 
but as we have no means to prove it we must let them go as 
we have the others, though it is a nuisance, for they only warn 
the people at the ports against us. We won’t put them on 
the mainland this time, but land them on one of the little 
islands. They may be some time in getting a craft to take 
them to the mainland, and then they will find it rough work 
making along the coast. However, we can settle upon that 
later. The first thing to do is to get the decks roughly 
cleaned and the dead bodies thrown overboard.” 

A dozen men were set to work with mops and buckets, 
while others fastened shot to the feet of the Algerines and 
dropped them overboard. As soon as this was done Marco 
was sent below to tell the captives that they could come on 
deck. 

As the women poured up, looking almost dazed at their 
sudden release, and at the bright sunlight after the stifling 
atmosphere of the dark hold in which they had been confined 
for six days, Horace saw one of them, a woman of some five- 
and-thirty years of age, to whose side a girl of fifteen was 
clinging, dooking round with an air of excitement, in strong 
contrast to the comparative apathy of the others. She glanced 



THE GREEK CAPTIVES ARE BROUGHT ON DECK 




































IN THE HANDS OF THE TURKS 


191 ) 


round at him and the men engaged in tidying up the deck, 
and then with a cry sank fainting on the deck. He hurried 
up to her, and partly raised her, when he was struck by the 
cry of the girl, “Oh, mother, mother! ” He looked at her in 
astonishment. 

“Are you English?” he exclaimed. 

“Yes,” she cried, “we are English; but we have been 
seized and carried away by these horrid Turks. Mother.said 
she fancied she heard some shouts in English, but she thought 
she must have been mistaken, as only a Greek came down 
and spoke to us in the hold, and she did not think it possible 
that it could be English. And have you rescued us out of the 
hands of the Turks, sir? Mother said they were taking us 
away to sell us as slaves.” 

“Yes, we have rescued you,” Horace said. “You are free 
now. If you will hold your mother’s head for a moment I 
will fetch the doctor; we have one on board.” 

“If you would get a little water, sir, she will soon come 
round. She has fainted several times since we were capt¬ 
ured.” 

Horace, however, caught sight of Macfarlane. 

“ Doctor, here is an English lady among the captives. She 
has fainted. Please see to her. I will run to get some water; ” 
and he sprang over the bulwark on to the deck of the schooner. 

“Bring some brandy with you too,” Macfarlane said as he 
hurried to the side of the fainting woman. 

Horace rushed down to the cabin, and returned with a jug 
of water, a decanter of brandy, and a tumbler. The doctor 
sprinkled some water on the lady’s face, poured a few drops 
of spirits between her lips, and in a minute or two she opened 
her eyes. 

“It is all right now, madam,” he said as she looked round 
in a confused way. “You are safe among friends and British 
sailors.” 

“Thank God for His mercies! ” she murmured, while tears 
fell down her cheeks. “ It seems almost too great happiness 
to be true.” 


200 


IN GREEK WATERS 


In a few minutes she was well enough to be assisted down 
to the cabin of the schooner, where she was left to the care 
of her daughter for a time. Half an hour later she was able 
to relate her story to Mr. Beveridge. She was, she said, the 
wife of an English merchant at Smyrna. They lived a short 
distance out of the town, and had, since the troubles began, 
gone but little abroad, for although it was only the Greeks 
who had been involved in the massacre that had taken place 
there some months before, there was a good deal of hostility 
upon the part of the lower class of the population against all 
Christians. One evening she had been with her daughter in 
the garden, her husband being engaged till late at his business 
in the town. It was just getting dark, and she was about to 
re-enter the house, when five or six ruffians of the lowest 
class rushed into the garden, seized her and her daughter in 
spite of their shrieks, threw thick cloths over their heads, and 
then carried them away. They were taken for some distance, 
when they stopped, and she heard an animated conversation 
and the clink of money. Then they were placed in a boat, and 
presently carried up on to the deck of a ship and taken below. 

When their mufflings were removed they found they were in 
the hold of a vessel with a large number of Greek captives. 
She endeavoured in vain to make herself understood by the 
sailors who came below, and who, she perceived at once, were 
not Turks. She told them that she was English, and that her 
husband would pay a large sum if she and her daughter were 
set on shore unharmed. No attention was paid to her entrea¬ 
ties, but on her persisting she was brutally knocked down, and 
in a short time a man, who was evidently an officer, came 
down and forced them both to take off their European dresses 
and put on others that some of the Greek women were ordered 
to hand over to them. It was now evident to her that they 
had been seized by some of the ruffians of the town and sold 
to the Algerines, who were in no way particular as to the 
nationality of their slaves, and that they were destined to be 
sold in the slave-market of either Tunis or Algiers. 


IN THE HANDS OF THE TURKS 


201 


A few hours after they were taken on board they heard the 
anchor run up, and could soon tell by the ripple of the water 
against the planks that they were under weigh. All hope now 
left them, and they had passed a terrible six days, overcome 
by despair, and half suffocated by the foul air of the hold. 
Hope had again sprung up when a gun was fired overhead, 
and it was soon evident that the vessel was engaged in an 
encounter with an enemy. At last the firing ceased, then 
there was a sound of shouting and the clashing of swords on 
the deck above their heads. Presently the hatchways had 
been opened and a Greek had come down and told them that 
the vessel had been captured from the Turks, and that they 
were free. She fancied that she heard English voices, but 
until she had reached the deck and saw the faces and uni¬ 
forms of the sailors, she thought that she must be mistaken. 
After that she remembered no more until she heard the doctor’s 
voice. 

“I am rejoiced indeed that I have been enabled to save 
you and your daughter from the horrors of slavery,” Mr. 
Beveridge said. “We have had the pleasure of rescuing many 
hundreds of Greek women and children from the hands of the 
Turks, but I never expected to find a countrywoman among 
them. This cabin will be at your disposal, except that we 
must, I fear, take our meals here. The cabin adjoining will 
be wholly yours. In the course of a week I hope to land you 
at Corfu, thence you will be able to write to your husband and 
arrange either for joining him again at Smyrna, or taking a 
passage for England, which would, I should think in the pres¬ 
ent state of things, be the wisest course. My purse will be 
entirely at your disposal. I am the owner of this schooner, 
which is called the Misericordia , and although we fight under 
the Greek flag, and have come out to assist them to obtain 
their independence, we are principally devoting ourselves to 
saving the unhappy victims of this war.” 

The lady, whose name was Mrs. Herbert, expressed her deep 
gratitude, and Mr. Beveridge at once took possession of Mil- 


202 


IN GREEK WATERS 


ler’s cabin, as the lieutenant would, he had no doubt, remain 
in charge of the prize. When the capture was made, the 
schooner was some eighty miles to the east of Rhodes, and 
after talking the matter over with Miller, Martyn decided to 
land the Algerines on Caxo, an islet lying some fifty miles to 
the south-west of Rhodes. Miller and Tarleton were for the 
present to continue on board the prize. The prisoners, forty- 
eight in number, were transferred into the schooner. The next 
evening they arrived off Caxo, where the Algerines were landed 
in boats. Martyn then went on board the polacca. 

“I have been thinking, Miller, that as we seem to have 
frightened all the Turks into remaining in port for the pres¬ 
ent, I will leave you and Tarleton on board the polacca, and 
give you twenty men and let you cruise on your own account, 
while we take these women and children round to the Ionian 
Isles. We will shift two of the eighteen-pounders on board 
this craft. No one will suspect you, and you will have a good 
chance of picking up some more prizes, while the sight of our 
white sails sends everything running into port as far off as they 
can be seen. We can rendezvous here again this day fortnight. ” 

“I should like that very much,” Miller said, “and I think 
it is a capital plan. I must ask Mr. Beveridge to let me have 
Marco, or I shall have no means of making myself understood 
either by Turk or Greek.” 

A fortnight later the schooner returned to the island. She 
had had rough weather for the last three days of her voyage, 
but the sky had now cleared again. 

“There is the island,” Martyn said, as Horace came up at 
six o’clock in the morning to take charge of the watch, for he 
had now command of the starboard watch, and Tom Burdett 
had the port. “There is the island, but there is no sign of the 
polacca yet. I wonder Miller is not here first. If we had 
been having calms I should not have been the least surprised 
at his not turning up, but with this strong southerly wind 
there is no reason why he should not have been here. Go up 
to the main-top, Horace, and take a look round.” 


IN THE HANDS OF THE TURKS 


203 


But Horace could see no sail in sight. 

“You are not uneasy about Miller surely,” Mr. Beveridge 
said at breakfast, seeing that Martyn was not in his usual 
spirits. 

“Well, I am rather uneasy, sir. Miller would be more 
likely to be a day too soon than too late, and with the wind 
from the south he could have calculated his time here from 
wherever he happened to be, within an hour or two. The 
wind has been strong with us, and for aught I know it may 
have been blowing a gale more to the east. We don’t know 
much about the sailing qualities of the polacca, certainly she 
was very light in ballast, and if she has been caught off a lee 
shore in a heavy gale she may not have been able to claw off, 
especially if she happened to be embayed when it came on. 
Of course we must give him twenty-four hours more, but if he 
does not come then we will shape our course north-east and 
cruise along the coast; as we get eastward we may pick up 
some fishing craft or small coaster and hear what the weather 
has been there, possibly even get news of the polacca. If 
Miller gets here after we have left, he will guess what course 
we have taken. Very likely he will land a boat and learn 
that we have been here, and the course we took when we sailed 
away, and would then be guided by circumstances. At any 
rate, if nothing has happened to him, we are sure to meet 
sooner or later.” 

“Do just as you think best, Captain Martyn. I most sin¬ 
cerely trust that there are no grounds for your uneasiness. 
Hitherto everything has gone well with us, and it would be 
terrible indeed if anything should have happened to our two 
friends and so many of our brave fellows.” 

The day passed slowly. A look-out was kept in the top, 
but until the sun went down no sail was seen above the hori¬ 
zon. The crew shared the anxiety of their captain, and 
gathering in groups, discussed what could have occurred to 
prevent their consort arriving at the rendezvous. 

“I don’t believe as the Turks have caught them,” one of 


204 


IN GREEK WATERS 


the sailors said. “ You won’t never gammon me into taking 
in such a yarn as that. I don’t believe as there is a Turk 
living would get the weather gauge of Lieutenant Miller. As 
to tempests, that is different. We don’t care for tempests 
one way or the other on board the schooner, but then she is 
a craft such as you don’t see twice in a v’yage round the 
world. If they had been in her I shouldn’t have felt noways 
uneasy; but seeing as how they are in a outlandish brig whose 
ways they don’t understand, it may be that if they was caught 
off a lee shore by a heavy gale, even the first lieutenant with 
our men at his back couldn’t get her out of the mess.” 

“I said all along,” another sailor put in, shaking his head, 
“as there was bad luck coming. Three days ago I dreamed 
of a black cat, and everyone as knows anything knows as there 
ain’t nothin’ more unlucky to dream about than a black cat.” 

“Surely, Bill,” another said, shaking his head gravely. 

“Well, mates, it is my opinion,” Tom Burdett said gruffly, 
“as there is something in dreams, but in nine cases out of ten 
it is something as has gone afore and not what comes after. 
I know once when I came back from a v’yage I had written a 
letter to tell my old woman what time I should arrive. I 
reckoned to be in to dinner. Well, the coach broke down 
and I did not get in till nine o’clock. The old woman had 
made a plum-duff pretty nigh as big as my head, knowing as 
I was fond of it, and she was in such a taking at my not hav¬ 
ing been in to eat it at dinner that I sat down and I finished 
that there pudding cold for supper. Well, I dreamt of about 
ten million black cats and about as many sharks mixed up 
together, but if you will believe me nothing came of it; and 
ever since that I have held to the opinion that when you have 
a bad dream, what you have got to think about when you wake 
ain’t what it means in the future, but what you have been 
having for supper. 

“Now, I expect if Bill there was to turn his mind back he 
would remember that the night as he had that dream, he had 
been filling hisself up with fruit or such like trash afore he 


IN THE HANDS OF THE TURKS 


205 


turned in. I don’t say as nothing has happened to Lieutenant 
Miller and our mates, but I am cocksure as that black cat Bill 
said he dreamt on hadn’t nothing to do with it either way. 
Why, bless me, in my village there is hundreds of women as 
thinks of nothing but dreams and tokens. It is no matter 
what you dream of, they have got a ’terpretation of it, and if 
the ’terpretation happens to be a bad one they bother their 
husbands and brothers and sons, as the case may be, not to 
put to sea, and there is many a good fisherman whose cup¬ 
board is bare half the year, through listening to them. I may 
have my ideas as to whether harm are come to that polacca or 
not, but if every seaman on board the ship was to dream of a 
black tom-cat and his wife and family, it wouldn’t make not 
so much as a shade of difference, in my opinion.” 

Martyn did not wait for daylight, but when the middle 
watch was relieved sail was made, and the schooner bore away 
to the north-east. Land was sighted about four o’clock, and 
by nightfall they were coasting along at the distance of about 
a mile. When it became dark they stood on and off the shore, 
as Martyn wished to examine every inlet and bay as they went 
on. As soon as it was daylight the schooner proceeded on 
her way. The sails of several craft were made out seaward 
during the course of the day, but none of these resembled the 
canvas of the polacca, and attention was concentrated upon 
the shore, every rock being closely scanned with glasses, and 
a sharp look-out kept for signals of any kind. 

In the evening a small fishing-boat was overhauled as it 
made its way into a village. The fishermen were interrogated 
by Zaimes, who understood a little Turkish. They had seen 
nothing of any craft answering to a description of the polacca. 
Interrogated about the weather, they replied that the storm 
four days before had been an exceptionally severe one, com¬ 
ing on very suddenly and blowing with tremendous force for 
some hours. 

The next morning they were at the mouth of the Gulf of 
Adalia. 


206 


IN GREEK WATERS 


“If Miller has gone to grief anywhere,” Martyn said to 
Horace, “ it is as likely as not to be somewhere in this bay. 
He might very well have been cruising about in here to pick up 
anything coming out of Adalia, which is the principal port 
along this part of the coast. It is a large bay, you see, and 
if he happened to be well up it w r hen he was caught in that 
sudden gale it is probable enough that he would not be able 
to beat out in that craft. I see on the map there are three 
or four small towns between this cape and Adalia. I don’t 
want to show ourselves inside the cape, for the probability is 
the schooner would be recognized directly. What I think 
will be the best plan would be for you and Zaimes to take one 
of the boats and coast along close in to the cape. There is a 
place called Grambusa a mile or two around the corner, and 
another place called Yanar a little farther on. I want you 
either to board a fishing-boat and find out whether they have 
news of a wreck between this and Adalia, or have heard of 
any Greek or European prisoners being brought there from 
farther east. If you can’t succeed in getting hold of a fish¬ 
ing-boat, Zaimes might land and try to pick up the news at 
some cottage in the outskirts of the village. There are Greeks 
in all these sea-side villages, for most of the fishing is in their 
hands, and though in the towns there were massacres I don’t 
suppos. they would be disturbed in quiet villages where they 
had been settled for generations.” 

Zaimes was summoned, and agreed at once to land, as both 
Martyn and Horace were of opinion that there was more prob¬ 
ability of their getting trustworthy information that way than 
from fishermen, who would be scared at finding their boat 
suddenly overhauled. Accordingly, taking a gig with six men 
Horace and Zaimes started for the shore, while the schooner 
turned her head west. 

“I shall cruise backward and forward,” Martyn said. “I 
sha’n’t go more than four miles from the cape; so when you 
come out again you will only have to lie on your oars till I 
come back for you.” 


IN THE HANDS OF THE TURKS 


207 


They rowed direct to shore, crept along close to it till they 
saw the village half a mile ahead, and then rowed in and 
landed Zaimes. He was absent an hour, and his walk assured 
Horace that he had bad news even before he reached the side 
of the boat. 

“I am afraid you have bad news, Zaimes.” 

Zaimes shook his head. “Very bad; it could hardly be 
worse. There are several Christians in the village, and I 
learned from them that four days ago a brig that was caught 
in the storm was driven ashore close to Adalia. It was found 
that she was a Turkish vessel which had been captured by 
pirates. The people would have torn them to pieces, but the 
pasha, who had come down to the shore with a body of troops 
to try and save those on board the ship when she was seen to 
be driving ashore, protected them from the mob and lodged 
them in prison. They say that he has sent off to Smyrna, 
where the governor of Anatolia resides, to ask for instructions, 
and it is expected that orders will come for their execution in 
a day or two.” 

“Stretch to your oars, men,” Horace said. “The others 
have been wrecked and captured by the Turks, and the sooner 
we are on board with the news the better.” 

The men bent to their oars and made the boat fly through 
the water, and when they rounded Cape Khelidonia they saw 
the schooner a quarter of a mile away in the act of going about. 
They were seen almost as soon as they caught sight of her, and 
she remained thrown up in the wind until they got alongside. 
Martyn and Mr. Beveridge were both on deck, and as soon as 
Zaimes had told his story they went down into the cabin for 
a consultation. 

“What on earth is to be done?” Martyn said; “Adalia is 
a large town. Zaimes says there are troops there, likely enough 
a whole regiment. It would be hopeless to try to attack it 
with thirty men. The only thing I can see at present would 
be for us to sail right in, anchor off the town, and threaten to 
bombard it with red-hot shot if they don’t give up the pris- 


208 


IN GREEK WATERS 


oners. The objection is that they are likely to have some 
batteries there, and in that case we might get the worst of it. 
Besides, it is likely enough that they might hang Miller and 
the rest of them at the first shot we fired.” 

“No, that is not to be thought of,” Mr. Beveridge said. 
“ It seems to me that we might anchor within sight of the 
place, send a boat ashore with a white flag, and offer to pay 
any ransom they might fix for the prisoners. I would rather 
pay ten thousand pounds than that harm should come to them. 
What do you think, Horace?” 

“ If we could have got at the pasha before he sent off to 
Smyrna that might have done, father; but having once referred 
the case to Smyrna, I am afraid he might consider it too risky 
to let them go. But we might try that if everything else 
fails.” 

“But what else is there, Horace? ” 

“ Well, I should say, father, the best thing would be to land 
Zaimes and myself again. He has already made some acquaint¬ 
ances in the village here, and no doubt they could rig us both 
up in dresses like their own. Then we could go boldly on to 
Adalia, find out exactly how things stand, what sort of a place 
they are imprisoned in, how strong is the guard, and how close 
the barrack of the troops is to the prison. I should suggest 
that you sail away west, so that if, as it is likely enough, the 
schooner has been noticed by any of the peasants in the vil¬ 
lages scattered about among the hills and word sent to Adalia, 
the report may also go that it has sailed right away. Then you 
should capture a small Turkish craft; a large fishing-boat would 
do. Leave ten men on board the schooner, and sail in the 
prize nearly up to Adalia. If you anchor, say a couple of 
miles this side of the town, and hoist a little flag, say a red 
flag over a white, to your mast-head we should recognize you 
and come down to the beach. 

“ If it is in the daytime you will make us out with your 
glasses easily enough, and send a boat ashore for us. If it is 
nighttime we will empty out a little powder, moisten it, and 


IN THE HANDS OF THE TURKS 


209 


flash it off; then you can send ashore for us. I should order 
the schooner to come every night, keeping three or four miles 
off shore, sailing up nearly to Adalia, and then returning so as 
to be round the cape again before daylight. In that way we 
could communicate with her and go on board again when we 
liked. Till we examine the place there is no saying whether 
there is a possibility of rescue or not. If we find that there is 
no possibility of anything being done in that direction we can 
embark on board the schooner again, and carry out the plan 
you suggested: anchor off Adalia, and send in to offer a ran¬ 
som, with the alternative that if it is not accepted we will 
bombard the place about their ears. In that way, you see, we 
shall mnyhow lose nothing by this expedition- of Zaimes and 
myself ashore.” 

“I think your plan is an excellent one, Horace,” Martyn 
said, and Mr. Beveridge equally approved of it. 

“I don’t think there will be any great danger about it, 
Martyn. There seems no reason why any suspicion should 
fall upon him and Zaimes if they are dressed in the same way 
as the Greeks in these villages.” 

“No, I don’t see why there should. Of course they will 
only speak with other Greeks. I certainly think the plan of 
our getting hold of a small native craft and anchoring near the 
town is a capital one. It will save a great deal of time, for it 
is somewhere about fifty miles from the cape to the town, and 
it would, in fact, save a whole day, as, if they come off to us in 
the evening we could do what there is to do that night, whereas, 
if they had to walk all the way down the coast to the cape and 
come on board there it would be too late to do anything that 
night, and we should have to wait until the next.” 

Zaimes was called in, and eagerly embraced the proposal 
when it was explained to him. He was passionately fond of 
his brother, from whom he had never been separated, and was 
ready to dare anything to attempt his rescue. It was agreed 
they had better wait till dark before they landed. Accordingly 
the schooner sailed west for some hours and did not return to 


210 


IN GREEK WATERS 


the cape until after darkness had fallen. Then Zaimes and 
Horace were landed, and as soon as the boat returned the 
schooner again sailed away. Before leaving the ship Horace 
had dressed himself as a Greek, and on landing they walked 
to the village. 

“You had best remain outside for a few minutes, Mr. Hor¬ 
ace,” Zaimes said, “while I see the man I conversed with this 
morning. I told him then that my brother was on board the 
polacca that was wrecked, and that I should endeavour to get 
the ear of some person of importance at Adalia. He said that 
he was sure that I could do nothing, but anything he could do 
to help me he would, for his people came years agtfjJrom 
Naxos, which, as you know, is our native place. I wJfr just 
go in first to see if he is alone and to tell him that I have a 
friend with me. As soon as I see that he is in the same mood 
I will call you in.” 

In three or four minutes the door of the cottage opened 
again and Horace was called in. t 

“This is the young friend who accompanies me,” Zaimes 
said to the man. “ He is not a relation, but he has been with 
my brother ever since he was born, and is willing to join me 
in the effort to save him.” 

“It is quite hopeless,” the peasant said. “You are only 
risking your lives. Still, that is your business. You are 
ready, you say, to buy of me two suits of our clothes. I have 
one suit belonging to my son, who is at present away in a 
coasting ship, and I have a suit of my own that I can let you 
have.” 

Zaimes and Horace had both brought on shore a consider¬ 
able amount of gold stowed in belts beneath their clothes, in 
case they should find any opportunity of bribing a prison 
official, and had in their pockets an ample sum for any ordi¬ 
nary expenditure. As the peasant only asked about three 
times the amount which the clothes would cost new, they paid 
for them without bargaining, and at once put them on. 

“I have a brother at Adalia,” the man said, well pleased 


IN THE HANDS OF THE TURKS 


211 


with the bargain he had made; “and if you go to him and say 
that you come from me, his brother Alexis, of this village, I 
am sure he will be glad to lodge you, especially when you tell 
him that you too belong to Naxos.” 

After receiving instructions as to how to find the man’s 
brother in Adalia they started at once upon their journey. 
They lay down for three hours in the middle of the night in 
a wood, and entered Adalia at eight o’clock in the morning. 
They went straight to the address the peasant had given them. 
It was a small house with but two rooms, and its master was a 
cobUgj^ As soon as Zaimes mentioned his brother’s name, 
anc^Ed that they were ready to pay for the accommodation, 
the shoemaker agreed at once to receive them. He was a 
chatty fellow, and waif very anxious to hear news about affairs 
in Greece, when they told hitn that they had but lately arrived 
from there. 

“Now,” he said, “what is your business? Of course I can 
see that you do not belong to us. You are from Naxos, as 
you say; I notice a few turns of speech such as my father used 
to use. But what have you come here for? and why have you 
bought my brother’s clothes from him, for I recognized thenl 
directly you came in? I like to know things, not because I 
am inquisitive, but because I do not want to have the pasha’s 
executioner suddenly coming in # at the door and taking off my 
head, without even explaining the reason why.” 

“I am what I told you, a Greek of Naxos,” Zaimes said; 
“and as I explained to your brother, I have a brother who is 
one of the crew of that ship that was wrecked here six days 
ago; and I have come to see whether, by greasing the palms 
of some of the officials, I can manage to get him out.” 

“That you can’t,” the man said decidedly. “If he were 
in the civil prison it might be done; but the pasha, guessing 
perhaps that many of us Christians would sympathize with 
them, or possibly having an idea that the mob might rise, 
handed them over to the soldiers, and they are confined in a 
room in the military prison in the centre of the barracks, 


212 


IN GREEK WATERS 


where there are lots of sentries. The gates have been closed 
since they were taken there, and no civilian is allowed to enter 
under any pretence. So you see there is no bribing to be 
done. Of course the sentries are changed frequently. There 
is no knowing what officer has the prisoners specially under 
his charge. And even if he were bribed, there would be no 
getting them past the sentries. So you can* give up the idea 
altogether of getting your brother out.” 

“ How long does it take for a messenger to go from here to 
Smyrna?” Zaimes asked, with a slight glance at Horace to 
show that he was changing the conversation purposely. „ ^ 

“By ordinary travelling some two weeks; but a n^junted 
messenger, with relays of horses, can do it in four days.” 

“ Then in another three days the answer may come from 
Smyrna? ” 

“That is so. I wonder myself that the pasha took the 
trouble of sending to the governor of Anatolia, instead of 
hanging the prisoners at once.” 

“I suppose he thought that the governor might like to have 
them sent to him, so that he could 1 forward them to Constan¬ 
tinople.” 

“Are you thinking of delaying the messenger’s return? 
That might be done, you know.” And the man drew his 
finger across his throat significantly. 

“I don’t see that the delay would be of any use,” Zaimes 
replied. “ If there is no chance of getting my brother out, 
it matters not whether the messenger arrives to-day or a fort¬ 
night hence. However, it is a matter that may be worth 
thinking over later. At any rate we will go out and have a 
look at the barracks. Will you go with us? I am not with¬ 
out money, and can make it well worth your while to aid us 
by your advice.” 

“I am ready enough,” the man said. “Trade is dull, and 
a man must live; and besides, I would gladly save a Chris¬ 
tian and a native of my own island from the Turks.” 

“I would not trust him too far,” Zaimes said in an under- 


PLANNING A RESCUE 


213 


tone to Horace when the man went into the apartment behind 
to speak to his wife. “ He is now inclined to help us, espe¬ 
cially if he thinks that he will be well paid for it. But we 
had better not let him know anything of our plans. When he 
saw there was danger, what with fear as to his own safety and 
the hope of a bigger reward than he could expect to get from 
us, he might decide to turn traitor. We had better let him 
suppose that we have given up all hope.” 

“ I agree with you, Zaimes. His hint about the m 
may be a useful one. I don’t mean, of course, that w 
cut the poor beggar’s throat; but we might bind 
fasten,him up for a few days if we find there is neec 
to make our preparations.” 

“I am afraid time will not help us,” Zaimes said 
fellow can have no motive for lying; and if what h 
a fact, I don’t see a shadow of a chance of our gett 
out, even if we had all the crew of the schooner here. 

“We shall know more about it when we have seen the place, 
Zaimes. I expected they would be securely locked up, and 
it is not much worse than I looked for. It is hard if we can’t 
hit on some plan for getting them out.” 


CHAPTER XII 

PLANNING A RESCUE 

E VEN Horace was obliged to admit, when he with Zaimes 
and their guide had walked round the barracks, that he 
saw no chance whatever of being able to get the prisoners out 
by force. The barracks consisted of an old castle, a portion 
of which was, as the shoemaker told them, now used as a 
military prison; and round this at some distance ran a strong 
wall some fifteen feet high, loopholed for musketry. The 
troops were lodged in huts between this wall and the castle. 




214 


IN GREEK WATERS 

“There you see,” the guide said, “what I said was true. 
You could not get a bird out of that place, much less a man.” 

“That is so,” Zaimes agreed. “Well, what cannot be done, 
cannot. However, we will talk it over this evening at your 
house. Now let us walk about and view the city. Truly it 
is a fine one.” 

Few towns, indeed, have a finer situation than Adalia, stand¬ 
ing as it does at the head of a noble bay, a great portion of 
which is fringed with lofty and precipitous cliffs. The town, 
which at that time contained some ten thousand inhabitants, 
stands on ground sloping upwards from the sea in terraces 
rising one above another. It was surrounded by a ditch and 
a double wall of massive construction, with square towers 
every fifty yards. Beyond the walls stretched gardens and 
groves of orange, lemon, and mulberry trees. Ten mosques 
with their domes and minarets reared themselves above the 
houses, and there were several churches belonging to the 
Christian population, which was,, the guide told them, about 
two thousand in number, the great proportion of whom spoke 
only the Turkish language. “ I can talk equally well in both, 
for it is but fifty years since my father settled here, and we 
always talked Greek in the family as long as he lived. Now 
I always speak Turkish; it is safer, and does not remind the 
Turks continually that we are of Greek race.” 

“Where does the pasha reside?” Horace asked presently. 

“I will show you his place; it is at the lower corner of 
the north wall. His gardens stretch down to the wall by the 
water, and another high wall on this side separates them from 
the town.” 

Passing through several streets they arrived opposite the 
residence of the pasha of the sanjak of Tekeh, of which Adalia 
is the chief towm. The residence itself stood at the angle of 
the two walls dividing the garden from the town. It was a 
massive building. Some soldiers sat on benches at either side 
of the gate that opened into the court-yard, and townspeople 
and officials passed in and out. 


PLANNING A RESCUE 


215 


“The public offices are in the court-yard,” the guide said. 
“The pasha’s private dwelling and his harem lie behind it.” 

“ I suppose we can walk in? ” 

“Certainly,” the guide said; and they passed through the 
gates into the court-yard. On one side was a guard-room, 
stables, and other offices; on the other were the rooms of the 
secretaries and officials and that in which the pasha transacted 
business and received visitors. The portion of the house 
facing the gates was blank on the basement story, except that 
a door faced the gateway. Above were a line of windows, all 
closed with jalousies. “That is the dwelling-house,” their 
guide said. “ I believe all the apartments of the family face 
the garden. Those windows you see there are only those of 
the apartments of the servants and slaves.” 

After leaving the pasha’s they walked down to the bottom of 
the town, where two gates with strong flanking powers opened 
upon the port, which was smaller than Horace had expected 
to find it. However, he was glad to see that there were sev¬ 
eral craft anchored in the roadstead, some near the port, some 
at a distance, showing that vessels did not come in unless for 
shelter in bad weather or to discharge, heavy cargoes. What¬ 
ever the craft, then, in which the crew of the schooner might 
arrive, it would not attract attention by anchoring outside the 
port, as arranged. They returned with their guide to his 
house and had a meal there. Zaimes was profoundly dis¬ 
couraged. He saw no prospect whatever of rescuing his 
brother or the other ’prisoners, and the strength of the walls 
and the guns that were mounted upon them—a step which, 
the host told him, had been taken a few months before to 
defend the town against the Greek fleet, should it make its 
appearance there—showed that there was no prospect of the 
Turks being alarmed by the appearance or threats of a craft 
like the schooner. 

“It seems altogether hopeless,” Zaimes said to the Greek. 

The latter shook his head, “I can see no possible way,” he 
replied. “ If it had been an ordinary prisoner in the jail it 


21G 


IN GREEK WATERS 


could be managed without difficulty. I could have got one of 
our countrymen of some influence to have approached the 
prison officers, or I myself could have worked with the 
warders; a small sum of money would have done it. But 
now it seems to me hopeless, and even if we stop the messenger 
and gain another eight days while the pasha sends again to 
Smyrna, we sheft&d only run some risk and gain nothing.” 

Zaimes assented mournfully. 

“You had better make the man a present, Zaimes,” Horace 
said when they were alone for a minute after the meal was 
finished. “Tell him that it seems to us to be hopeless, and 
that we shall probably go right away; but that if, thinking it 
over, we can hit upon any possible plan we will be back again 
this evening and sleep here.” 

Zaimes carried out the suggestion, gave their host a gold 
coin, and said that they saw no use in staying longer, but 
would think it over in every way and might return that evening. 

“If you go outside the town you must be back by sunset,” 
cue man said; “the gates are closed at that hour.” 

“We will not forget, but I do not think you will see us 
again.” 

“Even if our people don’t arrive this evening, Zaimes, I 
think it will be just as well not to go back into the town,” 
Horace said as they issued out through the gates into the 
country. “ I don’t say for a moment that the man is not hon¬ 
est, but it is just as well not to put temptation in his way. 
He knows that we are friends of the prisoners, and he, no 
doubt, guesses that we belong to the craft that captured the 
polacca that was wrecked. No doubt he would not openly 
betray us; that would bring him into discredit with all the 
Christians in the town. But a few words whispered to some 
Turk, and an agreement to share any reward that may be given 
for our capture, would answer the purpose just as well. I 
don’t say he would, do it, you know, but it would be just as 
well not to run the risk.” 

On issuing from the gate, Horace saw that there was a nar- 


PLANNING A RESCUE 


217 


row road running between a deep dry ditch at the foot of the 
city walls and the outlying gardens and orchards. 

“This will be our shortest way down to the water, Zaimes, 
let us follow it.” 

The Greek turned without question. When they had gone 
half-way down between the gate and the bottom of the hill, 
Horace stopped. “Now, let us have a good look at this 
place. On the other side of that wall is the garden of the 
pasha’s house. I counted the number of steps up from the 
house to the cross-road leading to the gateway, and I have 
counted them coming down again; we are about fifty yards 
below the upper wall of the garden.” 

“I daresay it is so,” Zaimes replied listlessly. 

“This ditch is about ten feet deep, and from the bottom of 
the ditch to the top of that first wall is from five-and-twenty 
to thirty; between that wall and the higher one inside it is 
about fifteen feet; and the inner wall is about fifteen feet 
higher than the outer one; those square towers form junctions 
between the two walls. Now, we may be quite sure that there 
are no sentries either on the wall or on the square towers. I 
don’t suppose there are sentries anywhere except in the bat¬ 
teries on the water-face, but there certainly won’t be here, 
for they would command a view down into the pasha’s gar¬ 
den; so we may quite conclude that except for the trouble of 
scaling the walls there is nothing to prevent our getting over. 
A couple of rope-ladders and one or two twenty-foot planks 
with bits nailed across them to give a foothold would take us 
on to the inner wall; then we should need another long ladder 
to get down into the garden. That would be about thirty-five 
feet, I should say.” 

“Yes, I see all that,” Zaimes, whose face had again become 
animated as he listened, agreed; “but what would be the good 
of getting into the pasha’s garden? ” 

“No good at all, if we were by ourselves, Zaimes, but with 
Martyn and twenty men from the schooner a good deal of good, 
I should say. We have only got to make a sudden rush into 


218 


IN GREEK WATERS 


the house, which will, of course, be open to the garden, seize 
the pasha, and carry him and some of his wives and children 
off to the craft that our fellows come in, and then on to the 
schooner. Then we can send ashore to say that unless the 
prisoners are sent off in a boat to us by twelve o’clock in 
the day we shall hang the pasha. Maybe when we get hold 
of the pasha there will be no occasion to carry him and his 
women off; the mere threat of it might be enough. We can 
tell him that it will be painful to us to have to hoist them up 
to the top of the wall in sacks, but that we shall be obliged to 
do it unless he signs an order for the prisoners’ release, and 
sends it off at once by an officer to the jail. A handsome 
bribe that will enable him to make his peace with his superior 
at Smyrna may help to quicken his perception.” 

Zaimes seized Horace’s hand with fervour, shook it wildly, 
clasped his hands on his breast, raised them to heaven, and 
poured forth a stream of exclamations of delight. The quiet 
habits of many years had been thrown to the winds in a mo¬ 
ment, and the excitable Greek nature burst through all re¬ 
straints. “You have given me new life,” he exclaimed as soon 
as he had calmed down a little. “Just now there did not 
seem even a shadow of hope. Now there is a chance that once 
again I may clasp my brother in my arms. Your plan is 
difficult, it is dangerous, and yet we may succeed. It is a 
desperate undertaking, but what is that? I would give my 
life for my brother, and your sailors would all risk theirs for 
their comrades.” 

“ Let us sit down here quietly for a few minutes, Zaimes, 
and take a good look at these walls. It is evident by the look 
of this road that it is very little used, and even if anyone did 
come up they would only think that we had been working in the 
orange groves behind us and were taking a quiet smoke. It 
is lucky that there is a moon to-night; it would be an awfully 
difficult job to get over those walls and into a place we know 
nothing of if it were a dark night. There will be no difficulty 
in throwing up a grapnel and getting on to the first wall. The 


PLANNING A RESCUE 


219 


greatest difficulty will be in crossing from that to the one be¬ 
hind it. Of course with a regular gangway it would be easy 
enough, but we should not be able to get materials for making 
one. However, with a couple of stout spars pftt up a foot 
apart with ropes between them a foot from each other so as to 
make ratlings, we could get up, though it wouldn’t be a very 
easy job passing women down. Still, I hope it won’t come 
to that. I should think if we capture the pasha and his chil¬ 
dren, if he has any—and I suppose with half-a-dozen wives 
he will be sure to have some—we might leave the women 
alone, though, of course, we should threaten.to take them. But 
I’ll tell you what we shall want, and that is a man who can 
speak Turkish well, so as to explain exactly to the pasha the 
fix he is in.” 

“Yes, we shall want such a man,” Zaimes agreed. 

“Very well, Zaimes, then I think you had better go back to 
our friend at once. Even if he did mean treachery, he would 
have taken no steps yet, as he won’t expect us back till the 
evening if we come at all. Tell him that you want a service 
of him in which he will run no personal danger—for you know 
we can dress him up in some of our things, and put a bit of 
black cloth as a mask half over his face—and that he will be 
paid twenty pieces of gold for a night’s work. That will be a 
fortune to him.” 

“That will be the best plan,” Zaimes said. “Where shall 
we meet you? ” 

“ I will go down the hill to the bottom to see what sort of 
a road there is along the sea, and I will wait there for you. 
If the road is exposed to the view of any sentries on the bat¬ 
teries at the sea wall we must make our way through the 
orchards to this point; if not, we will move along there.” 

“ Do you think that Captain Martyn is sure to be here this 
evening? ” 

“ He is quite certain to be. He knows that every hour is of 
importance, and he will get hold of some craft or other early 
this morning even if he has to go into a fishing port to get it.” 


220 


IN GREEK WATERS 


Zaimes retraced his steps up the hill, while Horace saun¬ 
tered down until he came out on to the road leading to the 
port along the shore. A good many small houses were scat¬ 
tered along by its side, and some fishing-boats drawn up on 
the beach. At the angle of the wall there was a battery. 
Three guns pointed along the road and the Turkish sentry was 
leaning against the parapet by the side of them. 

“We shall have to make our way through the orchards,” 
he said to himself. “There will be no getting along this road 
with the moon up. The sentry would notice us a quarter of 
a mile away. Besides, the tramp of so many feet would be 
certain to bring people to their doors. And we must come 
early if we can, so as to catch the pasha before he goes to 
bed.” 

In half an hour Zaimes and the cobbler came up. 

“ It is agreed,” the former said in English; “ twenty pounds 
will make him what he considers rich, and he declares he is 
ready to run any risk for a single night’s work in order to gain 
it. I think he is an honest fellow. I watched him closely 
when I went in, and if he had any thought whatever of betray¬ 
ing us, I think I should have seen it in his face.” 

It was now four o’clock in the afternoon, and they soon 
made out a small brigantine anchored a quarter of a mile out, 
and about a mile and a half along the shore. 

“I expect that is her,” Horace said. “She has only just 
come in, for there are some men upon the yards stowing 
away the sails, and that is just the position we agreed she 
should take up.” 

When they had gone a mile farther they could see that she 
had small red and white flags at her mast-head. When they 
got opposite to her they went down to the water’s edge. 
Horace waved a white handkerchief for a moment and then 
sat down. A minute later the boat towing behind the brigan¬ 
tine was hauled up. Two men got into her and rowed lei¬ 
surely to the shore. They were dressed as Turkish sailors, but 
Horace recognized them as they came close as two of the 


PLANNING A RESCUE 


221 


crew. They stepped in at once, and the boat rowed out 
again. 

“ Ha ve you any news of Mr. Miller and the others, Mr. 
Horace,” one of them said, “if I might make so bold as to 
ask?” 

“ Certainly you may. They are in prison, and there is no 
possibility of getting them out with the strength we have got; 
it would need three or four hundred men at least. But we 
have another plan, which we hope will be successful.” 

“You will find the captain down in the cabin with your 
father, Mr. Horace. Everyone is keeping below except three 
or four of our chaps, who are got up, like us, in the clothes of 
the crew of the craft.” 

“Come along, Zaimes,” Horace said as he stepped on 
board. “You had better come with me. This man is going 
to help us, Davidson, so make him as comfortable as you can 
till Zaimes comes out again.” 

Horace found his father, Martyn, and the doctor in the 
little cabin. He was heartily welcomed back, and eagerly 
questioned as to his news. He first told them of the impos¬ 
sibility of doing anything to effect the rescue of the prisoners, 
guarded as they were; and then explained the position of the 
pasha’s house and garden, and his own plan. 

“Well, it is a bold scheme, Horace, but I should think it 
might succeed,” Martyn said when he concluded. “ We ought 
certainly to be able to get hold of the pasha before an alarm 
is given, and if we do we might manage to make terms with 
him without the women knowing anything about it. That 
would be a great point, if it could be managed, for if they 
begin screaming they will bring the whole town upon us. You 
say there is one door from that part of the house into the 
court-yard on the other side, and of course there is a commu¬ 
nication from the public rooms into the house. The first 
thing to do when we get in will be to post a couple of men at 
each of these doors to prevent anyone from running out and 
giving them the alarm. After that we can tackle the pasha 



222 


IN GREEK WATERS 


quietly. As you say, though we may threaten, there would be 
no getting women up over those walls; they would have to be 
slung up like bales, and if the alarm were given we should 
have the town upon us before we had half finished the job. 
We could bundle the pasha off, tied up if he would not walk, 
and take a dozen children if there are as many, for the sailors 
could carry them if they were small; if not, they could be 
gagged and made to walk with a pistol at their heads; but 
with women, and especially Turkish women, it would be an 
awful business. Many of them are fat, and some of them I 
suppose would faint. If we can get the pasha himself and 
some of his children that will be enough; but as you say, I 
expect he will give in when he finds himself in our hands, and 
we tell him that we are going to carry him and his whole 
family off. Your idea of a bribe in addition is a very good 
one. Of course, as you say, if we were sure the men at Smyrna 
would send an order for them to be sent to him, we should be 
all right, for we could attack their guard at some lonely spot 
along the road; but the betting is ten to one that he orders 
them to be hung at Once, and if the pasha here writes in return 
describing how he has been obliged to give them up, and 
sending a handsome present, he will hear nothing more about 
it. What time do you think we had better start, Horace? ” 

“About nine o’clock, I should say. It will take us a good 
hour getting from here and scaling the walls. It is not likely 
the pasha will be turning in before eleven, but it is as well to 
give a good margin.” 

“I should recommend you not to go, Mr. Beveridge,” Mar- 
tyn said. “You are not accustomed to climb rope-ladders. 
It is a job that is only fit for sailors.” 

“I do not think I should be of much use,” Mr. Beveridge 
replied. “If I did, I would go gladly; but after the hin¬ 
drance I was to you all at Cyprus, I will take your advice and 
stay here.” 

“I will leave a couple of men with you.” 

“No, Captain Martyn, you may want every man. Zaimes 


PLANNING A RESCUE 


223 


will remain with me. If you were going to attack the prison 
no doubt he would wish to be there and help to rescue his 
brother; but as it is, someone must stay here as we have eight 
prisoners down in the hold, and as he is no more accustomed 
to climbing ropes than I am, it is better that he should re¬ 
main here.” 

“Very well, sir, then I will see about getting the things we 
shall want made.” 

The crew were at once set to work to prepare the ladders. 

“We had better not make regular rope-ladders,” Martyn 
said. “They are well enough for us; but if we have to get 
people over the wall, we had better put in wooden rungs.” 

Accordingly some spare oars were sawn up into lengths, 
and with these and four ropes, two ladders each forty feet long 
were manufactured. Then two spars twenty-five feet long 
were chosen. Cross-pieces were nailed to these a foot apart, 
and a long piece of canvas was nailed under this gangway, so 
that, as Martyn said, if any of the captives made a false step 
in going across it, they would not fall through. A single 
block was fastened to a grapnel, and a long rope attached for 
getting up the ladder to the top of the first wall. All this was 
but an hour’s work for twenty men. The doctor had been 
asked whether he would prefer staying on board or going 
with the party. He decided upon staying. 

“ If you were going to fight I would certainly go with you, 
Martyn; but I am no more accustomed to climbing up ropes 
than Mr. Beveridge is, and I should only be in your way, so I 
will stay with him and Zaimes and keep watch on board.” 

“ I think that is the best plan, doctor. It is sailors’ work. 
We shall have trouble as it is in hoisting that fellow Horace 
brought on board over the walls.” 

The cobbler had turned pale with fright when Zaimes ex¬ 
plained to him that they were going to take the pasha a pris¬ 
oner, and that he would be wanted to interpret to him, and he 
protested that nothing could tempt him to undertake such a 
business. 


224 


IN GREEK WATERS 


“Nonsense, man!” Zaimes said. “You will run no more 
risks than the others. Look at them laughing and joking. 
They don’t look like men who are about to embark on a peril¬ 
ous expedition. However, I promised you twenty pounds, 
but if you do your work well and speak out boldly and firmly 
what you are told, you shall have another five.” 

“It is a big sum for a poor man,” the cobbler replied. “I 
will do it, but I won’t answer for speaking out loud and bold; 
my teeth chatter at the very thought of it. If he should ever 
recognize me again, he would chop me up into mince meat.” 

“ How can he recognize you? You can either fasten a piece 
of black cloth over your face, or what will do just as well, get 
a cork and burn it, and rub it over your face till you are as 
black as coal. Your own brother wouldn’t know you then, 
and the pasha will have enough to think about without staring 
at you.” 

“I like that better than the cloth,” the man said. “If 
there is a scuffle the black cloth may come off.” 

“We will rig you up in the clothes of one of the sailors 
here. You can put them on over your own if you like, and 
then you will have nothing to do but to throw them away, 
wash your face, and walk boldly into the town in the morn¬ 
ing.” 

The brigantine had two boats. These were, as soon as it 
became dark, lowered, and a quarter before nine the landing 
party mustered. The men had already torn up some blankets 
and old sail-cloth, and wrapped them round their cutlasses 
and muskets so as to deaden the sound should these strike 
against the wall. The guns were not loaded, but each man 
carried thirty rounds of ammunition and a brace of pistols, 
which were to be loaded as soon as they got down into the 
garden, Martyn, however, giving the strictest orders that what¬ 
ever happened not a shot was to be fired without his permis¬ 
sion. 

“I do not think it is likely that we shall meet with any 
resistance, lads,” he said before they stepped down into the 


THE PASHA OF ADALIA 


225 

boats. “If there is, knock them down with your fists; or if 
there is anything serious, use your cutlasses. Mr. Horace will 
place the four men told off for the doors, at their posts. These 
will follow him through the house regardless of anything that 
is going on around. Everything depends upon our preventing 
anyone from leaving the house and giving the alarm. I shall 
myself post men at all the lower windows before we enter. 
Their duty will be to prevent anyone from coming out into 
the garden. If there is yelling or shrieking in the garden it 
will alarm the town. As long as they only shriek in the house 
there is no fear of its being heard. Now you each know what 
you have got to do. As to scaling the wall, this must be done 
as quietly as if you were making sail on board a smart frigate.” 


CHAPTER XIII 

THE PASHA OF ADALIA 

I RACKED closely in the two boats of the Turkish craft the 
landing party rowed for the shore. As soon as they 
reached it the boats were drawn up on the strand, and in 
silence Martyn led his men across the road. Then he struck 
off into the orchard on the other side, so as to escape the 
notice of any of the people in the houses by the road. The 
cobbler and Horace went first, Martyn and the men followed 
a short distance behind. Half an hour’s walking took them 
to the edge of the ditch, and after a short search they found 
a bough that Horace and Zaimes had cut off and thrown down 
by the side of the path, to mark the spot where they were to 
make the ascent. 

Two sailors were posted on the path, at fifty yards above 
and below them, in case anyone should come along, although 
the risk of this was exceedingly small. There was no difficulty 



226 


IN GREEK WATERS 


in scrambling down into the ditch. As soon as they did so 
the sailor who carried the grapnel advanced to the foot of the 
wall, and at the second attempt succeeded in getting it to 
hold on the parapet. Another, with one of the rope-ladders, 
went forward, fastened the rope to it, and the two of them 
hauled the ladder up to the block, and kept the rope taut 
while Martyn mounted. He found, as he had expected, that 
there was a platform behind the wall for men to stand on while 
firing. Taking his place on it he took hold of the ladder 
rope and told the men below to loosen their end. Holding it 
partly up he fastened it at the block. Then two men joined 
him, hauled the wooden gangway up, and planted it against 
the top of the inner wall. The rest of the men followed, and 
Martyn led the way across. The others soon stood beside 
him, all stooping down on the platform as soon as they had 
crossed, so that their heads should not show above the sky¬ 
line, should anyone happen to be looking out from the win¬ 
dows of the house. 

Two sailors helped the cobbler across the gangway. Horace 
was the last to mount, with the exception of the two sentries, 
whom he summoned with a low whistle as soon as the others 
were up. When they reached the top they hauled the rope- 
ladder after them, and laid it ready for lowering again. By 
the time Horace crossed to the inner wall Martyn and most of 
the men had already descended to the garden by the second 
rope-ladder. 

“That has all been managed well,” Martyn said when 
Horace joined him below. “Now, you and I will go forward 
and reconnoitre a bit.” 

The house was seventy or eighty yards away. There were 
lights in several windows on the ground-floor, and at almost 
all the windows on the flat above it. 

“We had better take off our shoes, Horace. It is no use 
running any risks. Shove them in your sash beside your 
pistols.” 

They stole noiselessly up to the house and looked in at the 


THE PASHA OF ADALIA 


windows. In one room were a group of servants sitting round 
a brazier, smoking; another room was empty; but in the 
third, which was much the largest, four Turkish officials were 
seated on a divan, and a Nubian slave was handing them 
coffee. 

“That old chap is the pasha, no doubt,” Martyn whispered. 
“ He is evidently master of the house. You see he is giving 
some order or other to the slave. Here is the garden door 
into a hall; let us see if it is open. Yes; that is all right. 
Well, I think now we will bring up the men. Now, as soon 
as we are in, Horace, you take four men; go in first and post 
them at the doors leading out of the house. I will take six 
men and seize the pasha and his friends. Other four will 
pounce upon the servants. Your cobbler fellow had better go 
with them to tell the servants that if they make the least row 
they will have their throats cut. The other men will scatter 
about in the passages and down stairs, and pounce upon any¬ 
body who may come along. As soon as you have posted your 
men, go to the room where the servants are, and bring the 
interpreter in to me. Tell the sailors to bind the fellows and 
lay them down, and put a couple of guards over them.” 

They returned to the men and told them off to their several 
duties. All were ordered to take their shoes off, and put them 
in their belts. 

“Now, you can draw your cutlasses, lads,” Martyn said. 
“Have you all loaded your pistols? ” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Well, mind they are not to be used; a pistol-shot might 
destroy all our plans. I hope to manage it so that there shall 
not be any noise whatever.” 

They made their way quietly up to the house. Horace 
opened the door and led the way in, followed by his four men. 
They passed through the hall and a long passage, from which 
several rooms opened; and he was sure, by the direction in 
which he was going, that this must lead to the offices. At the 
end was a strong door; only one bolt was shot, as doubtless 




228 


IN GREEK WATERS 


the officers would be leaving by this way. He put up a heavy 
bar that was standing beside it, stationed two of the sailors 
there, and then retraced his steps with the others. Just as he 
reached the hall again a sailor came up to him. 

“This is the way to the big door, your honour; ” and turn¬ 
ing down another passage they arrived at a double door, 
which Horace had no doubt was the one that he had seen in 
the court-yard. Posting the men there he hurried back, and 
soon found the room where the servants had been sitting. 
The work had already been done. The sailors had all been 
provided with short lengths of rope, and the Turks were lying 
bound upon the floor. Telling the cobbler to accompany him, 
‘he went into the next room. Two sailors, with drawn cut¬ 
lasses, were standing by the side of the pasha. The three 
officers had been bound, and were lying on the divan, with a 
sailor standing over each, while the other sailor stood over 
the attendant, who cowered on the ground in an attitude of 
abject terror. Martyn was standing facing the pasha. 

“Now, Horace,” he said, “tell your man what to say to the 
pasha.” 

This had been arranged between them, and Horace at once 
addressed the pasha. 

“ Do you speak Greek? ” 

The pasha shook his head. 

“Tell him,” Horace said in that language to the interpreter, 
“ that we belong to the ship to which the officers and sailors 
he has in his prison also belong, and that we have come here 
to fetch them away. We are fighting under the flag of Greece; 
but we are Englishmen by blood, and we shall do no harm to 
him or his family. The prisoners, however, we will have; 
and unless he sends at once, with an order for their delivery 
from the prison, and hands them over to us, we shall be 
obliged to carry him, the three officers here, and the ladies of 
his family and his children, off on board our ship as hostages; 
and if a hair of the prisoners’ heads is touched, we shall be 
forced to hang him and the whole of his family to the yard¬ 
arms of the ship.” 



11 








THE CAPTURE OF THE PASHA 































* 

























THE PASHA OF ADALIA 


229 


The interpreter translated his words sentence by sentence. 
The Turk had at first looked perfectly impassive; but at the 
threat to carry off his women and children his expression 
changed, the veins stood out of his forehead, and his face 
flushed with fury. 

“Tell him,” Horace went on, “that we should deeply regret 
to have to take such a step, and that we sincerely trust that he 
will see the necessity for his yielding to our demands. There 
is no possibility of assistance reaching him, we are a well- 
armed body of determined men, his servants have been secured, 
and all the doors are guarded, as also the windows outside— 
he is completely in our power. As we came in noiselessly 
and unobserved, so we shall depart. If he refuses to comply 
with our demands we shall, of course, be compelled to bind 
and gag all our captives, and to carry the ladies and children.” 

When the last sentence had been translated, Horace said to 
Martyn, “ I think, Captain Martyn, you had better get those 
officers carried into the next room, so that we can touch upon 
the money side of the question.” 

Martyn gave the order, and the officers and the attendant 
were removed. 

“Now, pasha,” Horace went on, “let us look at this thing 
reasonably. On the one side is the certainty that you and 
the ladies of the household and your children will be carried 
away; and that unless the prisoners are given up to us in 
exchange for you, you will be all put to death. On the other 
hand, you have but to surrender prisoners whom you did not 
even capture in war, but who were wrecked on your shore. 
We know that you have sent to Smyrna for directions concern¬ 
ing them. Were it not for that you would have handed them 
over to us without difficulty; but as the pasha there, who is 
your superior, now knows of it, you think that he will be angry 
when he hears of their escape, and that you might fall into 
disgrace. But I don’t think that the pasha of Anatolia, if he 
were placed in the same position as you are, would hesitate a 
moment in giving up a score of captives of no great impor- 


230 


IN GREEK WATERS 


tance one way or the other; and that if the matter were placed 
by you in the proper light before him, accompanied, perhaps, 
by a present, nothing more would be heard about it. In any 
case we are ready to pay you the sum of one thousand pounds 
as a ransom for them. We have sent your officers out of 
the room that they should not hear this offer, which will be 
entirely between ourselves. It is not meant as a bribe to you, 
but as a ransom, which, if you choose to send it to Smyrna, 
will doubtless assist the pasha there to perceive that being, 
with your whole family, at our mercy, you had no resource 
but to comply with our commands. We will give you five 
minutes to make up your mind.” 

When this was translated, the pasha asked: 

“ How am I to know that, if the captives are restored to 
you, you will not still carry me and my family away?” 

“You have simply the word of English gentlemen,” Horace 
said when the question was translated to him. “You see we 
are acting as considerately as we can. Your ladies upstairs 
are still unaware that anything unusual is going on. Our men 
have touched nothing belonging to you. We are neither 
robbers nor kidnappers, but simply men who have come to 
save their comrades from a cruel death.” 

“I will write the order,” the pasha said firmly. “Had I 
been in the house by myself I would have died rather than do 
so. Being as it is, I cannot resist.” 

“Who will you send with the order? ” Horace asked. 

“ One of the officers you have taken away is the colonel of 
the regiment. He will take it and bring the prisoners here. 
He is the oldest of the three.” 

Horace went into the next room and ordered the officer to 
be unbound and brought in by two of the sailors. 

“You have heard, Colonel Osman, the terms that these 
strangers have laid down, and that unless the prisoners are 
surrendered, you, the two bimbaches, myself, and the mem¬ 
bers of my family, will be carried off as hostages and hung if 
the prisoners are not delivered up.” 



THE PASHA OP ADALIA 


231 


“I heard that, pasha.” 

“What is your opinion, colonel? ” 

“ My opinion is that you have no course but to give up the 
prisoners. No one would expect you to sacrifice the lives of 
the ladies of your family and your children, to say nothing of 
your own and ours, merely for the sake of twenty shipwrecked 
sailors. It seems to me that it were madness to hesitate, 
pasha.” 

“That is also my opinion,” the pasha said. “Therefore, 
colonel, I will now write you an order to fetch them from 
prison and bring them under an escort here. You will under¬ 
stand that it will be better that absolute silence should be 
observed about this affair. The less it is talked of the better. 
If the officer in special charge of them asks any questions 
you can intimate that, without knowing it, you believe that the 
messenger may have arrived from Smyrna with instructions as 
to their disposal. Dismiss the escort at the outer gate and 
bring the prisoners yourself here.” 

The pasha wrote the order, which he handed to the colonel, 
who at once hurried off with it. 

“You are sure that he will faithfully obey the order, pasha? ” 
Horace asked through the interpreter. 

The pasha nodded. 

“ One of the bimbaches here is his own brother, and he 
would be sure that his life would be sacrificed were there any 
treachery.” 

At this moment there was a little shriek heard. 

“I am afraid,” Horace said, “that one of the ladies’ attend¬ 
ants has come downstairs and has been seized. Perhaps you 
will like to go upstairs and assure them that there is no cause 
for alarm. In the meantime I will hand you this bag, which 
contains the amount of the ransom in gold.” 

“You Englishmen act nobly,” the pasha said as he took the 
bag. “You had us in your power, and need have paid noth¬ 
ing, and you treat me as a friend rather than as an enemy. It 
is a pity that you fight for the Greeks. When I was a young 
man I fought in Egypt by the side of your troops.” 


232 


IN GREEK WATERS 


Horace escorted him through the sailors in the passages to 
the foot of the stairs and there left him. 

“Your scheme is turning out trumps and no mistake,” 
Martyn said as he returned to the room. “There is no fear, 
I hope, of that Turkish colonel bringing all his men down 
on us.” 

“I don’t think so.” And Horace then repeated what the 
pasha had said as to one of the officers in his hands being the 
colonel’s brother. 

“That is good, Horace. I don’t think he would venture 
on it anyhow. Evidently the pasha has no fear. If he had 
he would not have sent him, because he must have known that 
his treachery jeopardized his own safety and that of his 
family.” 

“ How long do you think they will be before they are back? ” 

“Not much above half an hour, I should think. I don’t 
think the Turkish soldiers do much in the way of undressing, 
and certainly our fellows won’t. Now we will leave five men 
to look after the prisoners here, and we will put all the others 
in the offices you say look into the court-yard, so that if by 
any chance this fellow does bring troops down with him we 
can give them a hot reception.” 

“If he does, Horace, do you take the five men in the 
house, rush upstairs, let one man put a pistol to the pasha’s 
head, and let the others snatch up any children they can find 
there and take them away over the wall—pasha and all—and 
march them straight down to the boat and get them on board 
ship. Let me know when you are off with them. We will 
defend the place as long as we can, and then make a bolt 
through the garden to the ladder and follow you.” 

The men loaded their muskets and took their places at the 
windows of the offices. Horace and Martyn stood at the 
door leading from the house into the court-yard. The inter¬ 
preter stood with them. Presently they heard the tramp of feet 
approaching. Then they heard a word of command, followed 
by silence, and the interpreter said: 


THE PASHA OF ADALIA 


233 


“ He has ordered the soldiers to halt. The prisoners alone 
are to enter the court-yard. When the gates close behind 
them the soldiers are to march back to barracks.” 

The gates that had been left ajar by the officer as he went 
out opened, and in the moonlight they saw him enter, followed 
by Miller, Tarleton, and the sailors. The officer himself 
closed and barred the gate as the last entered. Then Martyn 
and Horace rushed forward and grasped the hands of their 
friends. These were for a time speechless with astonishment, 
but the men burst into exclamations and then began to cheer. 
Martyn checked them at once. 

“Hush, lads! Come in silently and quietly. We will talk 
and cheer when we get away. Pass the word inside, Horace. 
Tell the men to file out at once. Form up in the garden. I 
will wait here till you have cleared the house.” 

The greetings were hearty indeed when the two parties met 
in the garden. 

“March to the ladder, lads,” Martyn said, “but don’t begin 
to climb it till we join you. Now, Horace, we will say good¬ 
bye to the old pasha. Bring the interpreter in with you.” 

The pasha had returned to his room again where he had 
been joined by the three officers, the colonel having already 
liberated the other two. 

“Tell the pasha that Captain Martyn wishes to thank him 
for the promptness with which the arrangement has been car¬ 
ried out, and also to express to him his very great pleasure 
that this incident should have terminated without unpleasant¬ 
ness. Captain Martyn wishes also to say, that although, in 
order to rescue his officers and men, he was obliged to use 
threats, yet that, as far as the ladies of the pasha’s family were 
concerned, they were threats only; for that, even had he 
refused, he should have respected the privacy of his apart¬ 
ments; and although he would have been obliged to carry off 
the pasha himself, his children, and these officers as hostages, 
he would have retaliated for the murder of the prisoners only 
upon the adults. No English officer would use disrespect to 





234 


IN GREEK WATERS 


ladies, and no English officer would avenge the murder even 
of his dearest friends upon children.” 

When this was translated to the pasha, he replied: “The 
courtesy that the captain and his sailors have exhibited since 
they entered the house is in itself suffiH-nt *o ’ • v I 
his words are true, and that the ladies < 
have been respected. I feel myself hur 
my prisoners carried off from the mic 

have no reason to complain. It is th* , ana i 

shall always remember these English officers as gallant gentle¬ 
men. There are not many who would risk their lives to save 
a few of their countrymen.” 

A few more words were exchanged, and then Martyn and 
his companions joined the sailors at the wall. Miller and 
Tarleton had by this time gathered from the men a short 
account of how their rescue had come about. 

“Now,” Martyn said briskly when he reached them, “the 
sooner we are off the better. Horace, do you lead the way 
with ten of the men who came with us; let the last two of that 
party help your interpreter over. Mr. Miller, you with your 
party will follow. I will bring up the rear with the other ten 
men.” 

In five minutes all were over the walls. The last party had 
pulled up the ladder from the garden after them, then removed 
and lowered down the gangway; and after Martyn, who came 
last, reached the ditch, the grapnel was shaken from its hold 
on the wall. 

“It wouldn’t do to leave these things here,” he said to 
Horace. “ There is no saying what yarn the pasha may set 
afloat. It is quite on the cards that if he gets an order from 
Smyrna to execute the prisoners, he will have it given out that 
they were marched to the court-yard of his house and there 
executed. At any rate our taking away the ladders will leave 
it open to him to give his own account of the matter. Now, 
my lads, you will all follow me. It is of no use forming up 
in order, as we are going through orchards; but keep close 


THE PASHA OF ADALIA 


235 


together, don’t straggle and don’t talk. You will have plenty 
of time to compare notes when you are once on board. 

“Now, Miller,” he said as he started, “we are fairly out of 
it. I am delighted, indeed, to see you and Tarleton again. 
I thought at one time it was all up with you.” 

“So did we,” Miller said, “and I can hardly believe we 
are free even now.” 

“It is due to Horace and Zaimes, Miller, though it is to 
Horace entirely that the credit of hitting upon the plan by 
which we have got you out belongs. However we will talk 
all about that when we get on board. You will have to tell 
your yarn to the chief; besides, as I have told the men not to 
talk, I don’t want to set a bad example.” 

Horace had greeted Marco warmly in the court-yard, and 
as soon as they started he fell behind with him, chatting with 
him in low tones. 

“Zaimes couldn’t come with us, Marco, for he and the 
doctor had to stay on board with my father to look after some 
prisoners there, but he was here with me this morning and 
made all the arrangements for the escape. We landed at the 
mouth of the bay and walked here last night, both disguised 
in peasants’ dresses we got hold of. I know it was a great 
privation to him not to be able to come himself and aid in 
your rescue.” 

Here Martyn, catching the murmur of voices, passed the 
word for silence, and nothing more was said until they reached 
the boats which they had drawn up on the shore. A few min¬ 
utes later they were alongside the brigantine. Mr. Beveridge 
hailed them as they approached. 

“Is that you, Martyn? ” 

“Yes, sir. Horace’s plan has worked perfectly, and we 
have got them all out. The boats can only carry half. He is 
waiting with the rest on the beach.” 

“Thank God for that, Martyn! No one hurt at all? ” 

“No one, not even a Turk has been knocked down. The 
only scrimmage has been with one of the pasha’s wives’ 


236 


IN GREEK WATERS 


maids, who fought like a wild-cat before two of our men could 
make her a prisoner.” 

Directly the rest of the party came off the anchor was weighed 
and sail made on the brigantine, and she was headed from the 
land. In half an hour a look-out in the bow called out: “ I 
think I can make out the schooner away on our beam, sir.” 

“I think it is her,” Martyn said after going forward to have 
a look. “ Light that red flare-up we brought with us, Horace.” 

As soon as the red flame broke out, a similar signal was 
shown by the craft in the distance. The brigantine was headed 
for her, and the two vessels rapidly approached each other. 
Presently a hail from Tom Burdett came across the water. 

“ Captain Martyn ahoy! ” 

“Ay, ay, Tom! We have got them all. Everyone is safe 
and well.” 

A cheer broke out from the schooner, which was answered 
by a louder one from the brigantine. 

“Throw her up in the wind, Tom,” Martyn shouted, “and 
we will bring this craft alongside.” 

In two or three minutes the vessels lay side by side. Before 
leaving the brigantine its crew were released. Mr. Beveridge, 
in his delight at the success of the plan, made them each a 
handsome present for the inconvenience they had suffered. 
The cobbler of Adalia had not come aboard with the boats, 
Horace having given him his reward of twenty-five pounds 
before embarking. As soon as the crew of the schooner were 
all on board the head-sails were filled, and she rapidly drew 
away from the brig. The boatswain was ordered to serve out 
a ration of grog all round, and the officers then assembled in 
the cabin, where the Greeks placed some cold meat and wine 
on the table, to which all, especially Miller and Tarleton, fell 
to with a good appetite. When they had done, Martyn told 
the story of the steps that had been taken for their rescue. 

“You see, Miller, it was entirely Horace’s plan; he made 
the whole arrangements, and we had only to carry them out, 
which was the simplest thing in the world. Now let us have 
your account. ” 


THE PASHA OF ADALIA 


237 


“We were not very lucky,” Miller said. “We overhauled 
five or six craft, but for the most part they contained little of 
value. One or two of them had some silk and other goods 
on board, and these were transferred to the polacca. The 
weather kept fine, and thinking that our rig would not alarm 
the Turks we sailed in within three miles of Adalia. I was 
intending to go right into the roads and anchor there, when 
we saw the clouds banking up to the south. I had no ba¬ 
rometer on board, but it looked so bad that we headed out 
again for the mouth of the gulf. 

“We had not gone far when the gale struck us, blowing like 
fury right into the bay. We did everything we could, but the 
old tub drifted to leeward two feet for every one we worked 
out. The wind got higher and higher till it was blowing a 
hurricane. As soon as the water shallowed sufficiently to 
anchor, I let both anchors go; but the gear was all rotten, and 
the cables snapped like packthread. Finally we drove ashore 
about half a mile to the east of the town. 

“ There was a mob there waiting us, and the pasha with a 
lot of troops. We tied a line to a keg and it floated on shore. 
They hauled on it, and then we sent a hawser and swarmed 
along it. The Turks behaved very pluckily, joining hands 
and rushing into the breakers to get us ashore. As soon as 
they saw by our uniform who we were there was a regular hub¬ 
bub, and I thought we should all have been killed then and 
there. However the pasha made the troops form up round us, 
and marched us into the town, and there we were stowed away 
in a room in that old castle. The prospect didn’t look good, 
for as we went in we saw that the troops were in huts all round 
us, and that there was besides a high wall outside them. The 
window of the place we were shut up in was about eight feet 
from the ground and very strongly barred, and in addition 
they kept four soldiers always on guard in the room. 

“Two or three fellows came to us and spoke in different 
lingoes, of which we could neither make head nor tail. Then 
a chap came who spoke Italian. I don’t know much of it, but 


238 


IN GREEK WATERS 


enough to make out what he meant when he spoke very slowly. 
The upshot of it was that they had sent to Smyrna for orders 
as to what was to be done, and that it would take five or six 
days for the messenger to go there and back. It did not seem 
to make much odds to us what the answer was. Knowing how 
they go on on both sides it was a moral certainty that we should 
be hung either here or at Smyrna, and it did not seem to us 
that there was much choice between the two places. 

“Of course we often talked about you. We knew you 
would do everything you could, and that when you found we 
did not turn up at the rendezvous you would sail along the 
coast till you got news of us; but it did not seem likely that 
you could do anything to help us. We knew that you could 
not land more than twenty men, and with twenty men you 
could do nothing at all against about a thousand Turks with 
that strong wall in front of them. Besides, the old castle itself 
was capable of defence, and there were lots of them stationed 
in it. Things looked about as black as they could be. We 
were not starved; the Turks gave us plenty of bread and a 
sort of thin broth. 

“This evening we stretched ourselves out as usual about 
nine o’clock. We were all asleep when the outer gates of the 
castle were opened, then there was a loud trampling of feet, 
then our door was unlocked. When an officer came in, fol¬ 
lowed by a lot of soldiers, we thought that it was all up with 
us. The officer made signs that we were to go with him, and 
I made so certain that we were being taken out either to be 
shot or hung that I said a few words to the men, telling them 
that the end had evidently come, and that we must die as 
Christians and British sailors. We were led out, and about 
a hundred Turkish soldiers closed round us. We were sur¬ 
prised when they marched us out of the place, but as we went 
on through the streets of the town we supposed they were 
taking us to some quiet spot outside the walls. Then we 
turned in through that gateway, and then you know the rest, 
Martyn. I don’t think that I am a coward, or that I felt 


THE PASHA OF ADALIA 


239 


afraid to die; but when you and Horace rushed out to speak 
to us, you could have knocked me over with a feather. It was 
not until I got out into the garden and found your party 
formed up there that I was quite sure it was not all a dream.” 

When they had talked over the rescue Mr. Beveridge said: 
“Well, we have had enough of cruising for the present; we 
will make for Athens at once, Captain Martyn; by this time 
probably something will be going on there.” 

It was late in February when anchor was dropped in the 
harbour of the Piraeus. Mr. Beveridge at once went on shore 
with Martyn, and returned the next morning. 

“Any news of importance, father?” Horace asked as they 
came on board. 

“Yes, Hypsilantes is likely to be succeeded by his rival 
Mavrocordatos. A Samian adventurer named Lykourgos has 
got together a fleet and has proposed a landing at Chios; there 
can be no doubt that his intention is simply plunder, for even 
if he could drive the Turks out of Chios he could not possibly 
hold the island, as a large Turkish fleet will very shortly be 
ready to sail out of the Dardanelles. The worst of it is that 
the Chiots are utterly opposed to any movement of the kind. 
They are an agricultural people, and the island has always 
been mildly governed and lightly taxed; their municipal ad¬ 
ministration is already in their own hands, and their taxes 
collected by themselves. When Admiral Tombazes appeared 
off Chios with the Greek fleet during its first cruise, the in¬ 
habitants turned a deaf ear to his invitation to them to rise. 
In fact there is no doubt that the people of Chios have every¬ 
thing to lose and nothing to gain by becoming a part of 
Greece. 

“They have sent urgent remonstrances against the landing 
of any Greek troops on the island, pointing out that there is 
a strong body of Turkish troops there; that the citadel could 
not be captured, and that the attempt would only inflame the 
passions of the Mohammedan population and end in ruin and 
disaster to the Christian inhabitants. Hypsilantes has written 


240 


IN GREEK WATERS 


a mild letter to Lykourgos suggesting that it would at any rate 
be prudent to defer the enterprise. It is feared, however, 
that, like Greek commanders in general, the fellow will pay 
no attention to this, but will proceed on his own account. 
Martyn agrees with me that it would be as well for us to cruise 
about the island and see how matters go on, and endeavour to 
rescue some of the Turks from the fury of the Greeks, or some 
of the Greeks from the fury of the Turks.” 

“I should say the best thing to do, father,” Horace said 
indignantly, “would be to attack the ship of this fellow 
Lykourgos and to hang him at his own yard-arm.” 

“It would be a good action, no doubt, Horace; but as he 
has with him a fleet of seventy or eighty vessels it is probable 
that if we made the attempt we should decorate the yard-arms 
and not Lykourgos. At any rate we will stop here for two or 
three days, and give the men a run on shore. Just at present, 
owing to the fact of our having destroyed that Turkish frigate, 
they will be very popular characters, and are not likely to get 
into any serious row. They have still got the money I paid 
them for their conduct at Cyprus, and when sailors have got 
money in their pockets they are never happy until they have 
got a chance of spending it.” 

Accordingly, the crew had twelve hours on shore, a third of 
their number going each day. On the fourth day the vessel 
sailed for Chios. They cruised round the island for a fort¬ 
night and frequently overhauled fishing-boats and had conver¬ 
sations with the crews. They learned that fresh troops had 
lately arrived at Chios, and that as these bands were princi¬ 
pally composed of volunteers, Vehid Pasha, the governor, had 
great difficulty in maintaining order among them. He had 
persuaded the Christians to raise a monthly contribution of 
thirty-four thousand piastres to give regular pay and rations 
to the troops and so keep them in a good temper. 

On the 2 2d of March the schooner made out a large fleet 
of vessels approaching the island. They kept away until they 
saw them anchor, and then themselves cast anchor at a short 


THE PASHA OF ADALIA 


241 


distance from them. A boat at once put off from the ship 
flying the flag of Lykourgos, to demand who they were and 
with what intentions they were there. 

“We fly, as you see, the flag of Greece,” Mr. Beveridge 
replied to the officer, “ and we have the authority of the Greek 
government to fight against its enemies. I do not, however, 
recognize any authority on the part of your commander, unless 
he is acting at the present time under the explicit orders of 
Prince Mavrocordatos, who is now President of Greece, and 
shall therefore consult only my own feelings as to whether or 
not I take any part in the proceedings on shore.” 

“Our admiral will know how to make you obey orders,” the 
officer said angrily. 

i “Is he an admiral?” Mr. Beveridge asked, as if for infor- 

j mation. “ I was not aware that he had received any commis¬ 
sion that would authorize him to use that title either from the 
last president or from the present one. When I am well 
assured that this is the case it will naturally modify my views; 
as to compelling me, you can look round at the armament of 
this craft. Three months ago we destroyed a Turkish frigate, 
and I fancy that if we were interfered with we could give a 
good account of many of those vessels anchored there. If, 
therefore, Lykourgos is really bent upon the capture of Chios, 
I should advise him to set about it without wasting his time 
in meddling with us. You may mention to him that I am an 
English gentleman who has fitted up this vessel for the pur¬ 
pose of aiding Greece to achieve her independence, and that 
in all honourable warfare I am ready to take my part. If I 
see that the object of your expedition is honourable warfare 
I shall lend all assistance in my power. If I find that it is 
merely plunder and destruction, I shall also do all in my power 
to prevent the Greek flag from being disgraced by acts only 
worthy of pirates; and, moreover, I will take care that my 
countrymen and the various nations of Europe shall obtain a 
fair account of what has been done here.” 

The Greek was completely cowed by the calmness and con- 




242 


IN GREEK WATERS 


fidence of the owner of the schooner, and returned to his boat 
without any of the swagger with which he had quitted it. 
Horace translated his father’s speech to Martyn and the other 
two officers a r soon as Mr. Beveridge had returned to his 
cabin. 

“The chief is a perfect brick,” Martyn said enthusiasti¬ 
cally. “ Fancy sending off such a message as that from this 
schooner to a fellow commanding sixty or seventy sail. Sir 
Richard Grenville could hardly have sent from the deck of 
the Revenge a more defiant message to the Spanish fleet.” 

Miller rubbed his hands. “ Shall I get the men in readiness 
for making saihand casting off the guns, Captain Martyn?” 

“There will 1 e time enough,” Martyn said, “when we make 
out a movement among them. We can get up sail in half the 
time they can. I should not be surprised if this fellow Ly- 
kourgos knuckles down. Did you see how his officer came 
down from his stilts? If this fellow had any pluck he would 
be sailing to meet the Turkish fleet instead of landing to pil¬ 
lage here, for, from what Mr. Beveridge said, that can be his 
only motive. Still, we will keep a sharp look-out on them. 
If we see the flag-ship signalling to the others, or her boats 
putting off to them, we shall know what to expect. You may 
as well get a buoy on the anchor-chain and have everything 
ready to slip. We are too near them to be pleasant if they 
open fire. Once under way and out of close range we can 
talk to them as we like.” 


CHIOS 


243 


CHAPTER XIV 


CHIOS 


QUARTER of an hour after the Greek officer left the 



schooner Miller said: “They are lowering a large boat 
from the Greek flag-ship, sir.” 

Martyn brought his glass to bear upon it. 

“There is a stir on board,” he said. “It looks as if the 
commander were going on shore.” 

“Yes, there is some officer of importance being handed 
down the ladder. Now she is putting off. (By Jove! I be¬ 
lieve she is coming here; at any rate she is heading straight 
for us. Perhaps Lykourgos himself is coming to blow us out 
of the water.” 

“Quite as likely he is coming to pay his respects,” Miller 
said. “The betting is ten to one the fellow is a coward; and 
that if the officer gave the message as he got it, he is impressed 
with the idea that the chief is an Englishman of great impor¬ 
tance, possessed, perhaps, of unknown powers of destruc- 


“Horace,” Martyn said, “you had better tell your father. 
I can make out that the fellow in the stern is got up in gor¬ 
geous uniform. I expect it is Lykourgos himself.” 

Mr. Beveridge came up on to the quarter-deck just as the 
boat came alongside. Martyn went to the gangway as a Greek 
officer came up and announced that Admiral Lykourgos had 
come to pay a visit to the English lord. Lykourgos mounted 
to the deck. 

“I am the commandant of this craft, sir,” Martyn said. 
“This is Mr. Beveridge, the owner.” 

Lykourgos advanced with an air of great pleasure and with 
outstretched hand. 

“ I am delighted to make the acquaintance of an English 
friend of Greece,” he said. 


244 


IN GREEK WATERS 


Mr. Beveridge bowed and shook hands with the Greek. 

“What a contrast there is between them!” Miller whis¬ 
pered to Horace. “This theatrical-looking Greek with his 
oily manners, and your father in his quiet blue serge! Ah ! 
he is asking him to go down into the cabin.” 

The interview lasted about ten minutes, and then the two 
men returned on deck. Lykourgos entered his boat and rowed 
away. 

“Well, sir, is it peace or war? ” Martyn asked. 

“Peace, as far as we are concerned,” Mr. Beveridge said. 
“The fellow made no allusion to my message to him, paid 
me a large number of absurd compliments, expressed bound¬ 
less admiration at the result of Miller’s action with the frigate, 
of which he had heard, and hoped that he would have our 
assistance against the Turks. I told him what I thought of 
his enterprise, and that he was bringing destruction upon the 
heads of the unfortunate Christians. He assured me that I 
had been misinformed, that the Christians would join him to 
a man, and that he should make short work of the Turks, and 
should at once besiege them in their citadel. I said that I 
wished him success in that part of his undertaking, and that 
there would be no time to waste, as the Turkish fleet might, I 
understood, appear any day. But that, if he undertook siege 
operations, and his own force proved inadequate, we would 
land a party to assist him. He hinted that money might be 
required to support the siege. I told him that I had arranged 
with the central government .that any assistance I had to give 
in that way should be given through them; but that, if the 
people of the island really did rise, I should be happy to fur¬ 
nish a thousand muskets and ammunition for their use. See¬ 
ing that nothing was to be got out of me he took his leave. 
He said the landing was to take place in half an hour.” 

“Shall we send a party on shore with him, Mr. Beveridge? ” 
Martyn asked. 

“No, Martyn. He says he has got two thousand five hun¬ 
dred fighting men ready to land, and that being the case we 


CHIOS 


245 


should be powerless to interfere in any way. Besides, for the 
present I think it would be best to keep the men on board. I 
don’t trust the fellow in the slightest; and if he thought the 
vessel was left weak-handed, he is perfectly capable of making 
a sudden attack on her. No doubt he thinks we have money 
untold below, and I should say a great proportion of his vessels 
are no better than pirates, who have merely joined him in the 
hope of booty. I know that he has none of the Psara ships 
with him, for Chios lies so near their island that they would 
have no wish to draw the vengeance of the Turks upon them¬ 
selves ; and I know that they, as well as the Chiots, sent to 
CorintJ^to protest against the expedition. I don’t think he 
has any of the Hydriot ships with him either. They only sail 
under their own admirals, and do, to a certain extent, respect 
the orders of the central government. His ships, I fancy, all 
belong to the smaller islands, and are the sort of craft that are 
honest traders one day and pirates the next if they see a 
chance—the riffraff of the islands, in fact. If they really do 
besiege the Turks in the citadel, and I see that we can be of 
any assistance, we will land a party; but at any rate we will 
take matters quietly until we see how things go.” 

“The vessels are all lowering their boats, Captain Martyn,” 
Tarleton reported. 

“Very well, Mr. Tarleton. Let the men go to their quar¬ 
ters, unloose the guns and load with grape. It is quite upon 
the cards that these fellows may make a sudden dash upon us, 
thinking to catch us napping.” 

The boatswain’s whistle was heard, and then Tom Burdett 
shouted out: “All hands to quarters! Cast loose the guns 
and load with grape ! ” And in a moment a scene of animated 
bustle succeeded the quiet that had reigned on board the 
schooner since her anchor had been dropped. In a few min¬ 
utes, however, the crowded boats left the ships and rowed 
towards shore. 

“That will do, boatswain; you can call the men away from 
the guns,” said Martyn. 


246 


IN GREEK WATERS 


“Shall we take the cartridges out, sir?” 

“No, leave them as they are. Put a fold or two of sail¬ 
cloth over the touch-holes. It is just as well to be on guard 
as long as we are in the neighbourhood of these slippery gentry. 
Horace, you take my glass and go aloft, and see if you can 
make out any Turks in the neighbourhood. It is four or five 
hours since the Greek fleet first hove in sight, and there is 
ample time for the Turks to have come down to oppose their 
landing if they thought themselves strong enough to fight in 
the open.” 

Horace ascended the shrouds, and sitting on the cap of the 
mainmast examined the shore. 

“There are half a dozen horsemen riding about^. short 
distance from the shore, sir,” he called down, “but I can see 
no signs of troops anywhere.” 

“Then it is evident th£y don’t mean to fight,” Martyn said 
to the first lieutenant. “Between ourselves, Miller, I am very 
glad they are not here to oppose a landing; for if they had 
been, no doubt the chief would have wanted to fire a few 
shots to help cover the operations, and I should be sorry to 
lift even a finger to help in this wretched business. It is like 
a landing from one of the old buccaneer fleets on the Spanish 
Main. They used to pretend they went to attack the Span¬ 
iards, while in reality they simply fought for plunder. Still, 
those fellows had courage—plenty of it, which is more, I 
fancy, than these Greeks are likely to exhibit when they once 
get in front of the Turks.” 

Lykourgos, with his twenty-five hundred men, marched 
without opposition into the town of Chios, where they burnt 
the custom-houses, destroyed two mosques, and plundered 
generally the houses of the inhabitants. They occupied the 
houses nearest the citadel, and placing riflemen in them 
opened fire, while a party began to throw up a battery on a 
commanding position known as Turloti. 

The following morning Mr. Beveridge landed, and, accom¬ 
panied by Miller and Horace, and a party of twenty sailors 


CHIOS 


247 


armed with rifle, cutlass, and pistol, proceeded to Chios. He 
found the streets of the town in disorder, the troops—or 
rather the armed men, for they were under neither discipline 
nor control—were wandering about, occasionally going within 
sight of the citadel, and discharging their muskets two or 
three times in that direction. They looked with surprise at 
the orderly little party of British sailors; but as they supposed 
these had come to help them, they received them with excla¬ 
mations of good-will. They visited Turloti, where a score or 
two of men were working lazily, and then went down to the 
port, where another battery had also been begun. 

“ WhaL on earth are they putting up a battery here for! ” 
Milleraud. “At this distance they might as well fire pota¬ 
toes at the citadel. Ask that officer, Horace, what they are 
up to? ” 

The Greek replied that they were going to run their trenches 
forward against the citadel from this point. 

“Well, then, they are fonder of work than I gave them 
credit for,” Miller said when he understood the reply. “If 
the whole of them w^e to set to work in earnest, it would take 
them a month to run their trenches from here up to the 
citadel, and, at the rate at which they are working now, it 
would take-them a couple of years.” 

Returning to the town Mr. Beveridge called upon Lykourgos, 
who had taken up his quarters in the bishop’s palace. The 
Greek received him with an air of much greater pomposity 
than he had shown at their first meeting. He evidently 
believed that the work was almost accomplished, and that he 
was already the conqueror of the island. 

“I have been doing some good work this morning,” he 
said. “I have deposed the Demogeronts (the Municipal 
Council). You know they were poor creatures and lukewarm, 
and I have appointed a Revolutionary Committee.” 

“Indeed! ” Mr. Beveridge said gravely. “And what mili¬ 
tary work have you in hand? It seems to me that the men 
would be much better employed in working at the batteries 
than in idling about the streets.” 


248 


IN GREEK WATERS 


“The citadel will soon fall,” Lykourgos said loftily. “Cut 
off from all succour and surrounded by my army they must 
speedily surrender.” 

“Undoubtedly they must, if they were so situated,” Mr. 
Beveridge said; “but, so far as I see, there is nothing what¬ 
ever to prevent the Turks from sending reinforcements from 
the mainland.” 

“ I am writing to ask the government at Corinth to order 
the fleet here to blockade the island and oppose the Turkish 
fleet when they come in sight.” 

“That would be excellent,” Mr. Beveridge said; “but the 
central government are not famous for speed, nor argjhe ships 
of Hydra and Psara very apt to obey orders unless tTOse hap¬ 
pen to suit their own views. Could you not send a few of 
those vessels of yours to prevent the Turks from sending 
reinforcements? ” 

“Thatwould be quite impossible,” Lykourgos said decid¬ 
edly. “ In the first place, they are mere transports, the greater 
proportion carrying no guns, and those that do have guns of 
such light calibre that they could not oppose the Turkish 
cruisers that would no doubt convoy any vessels bringing 
Turkish troops across. In the second place, I could not 
spare a ship, for, were the Turkish fleet to arrive before the 
Greek fleet comes to my assistance, I should have to re-embark 
my army at once. I shall soon be in a position to press the 
siege more vigorously. I have already received messages 
saying the peasantry among the hills are about to join me.” 

Mr. Beveridge, seeing that there was no prospect of any 
vigorous efforts to restore, discipline among the Greeks, 
returned to the schooner. Day after day passed and nothing 
whatever was done. A few soldiers, when the fancy took 
them, worked for an hour or two at the batteries, or fired away 
their ammunition in the direction of the citadel. Neither 
Lykourgos nor his committee made any attempt to introduce 
either discipline among the troops or order in the town. 

No news came from Corinth as to the movements of the 


CHIOS 


249 


Greek fleet, but a vessel arrived with a few heavy guns for 
siege purposes, and also brought several Philhellenes—as for¬ 
eigners who had come to assist the Greeks were called—to 
direct the service of the guns. 

In consequence of the disorder in the town the position of 
the better class of Christians became intolerable. Mr. Bever¬ 
idge landed but seldom. He saw that nothing could be done, 
and that the expedition must certainly end in disaster, and 
accordingly preferred to remain on board and await events. 

Two of the officers generally landed every day. Some of 
the men were also allowed to go on shore, but were forbidden 
to approach the neighbourhood of the town lest they should 
become involved in quarrels with the Greeks. One day, when 
Horace was ashore with Tarleton, he spoke sharply to a 
drunken Greek soldier who ran against him. Presently Tarle¬ 
ton said: 

“ There has been a Greek following us since you spoke to 
that drunken man, Horace. He looks a respectable old card. 
I fancy he wants to speak to you, having heard you talking 
Greek.” 

“Why doesn’t he speak then?” Horace said. 

“Perhaps he wants to talk to you in quiet, Horace.” 

“Very well. Let us turn down this narrow street. There 
is no one about, and that will give him a chance of speaking 
if he wants to.” 

The Greek, indeed, quickened his steps as soon as they 
turned down, and was soon alongside of them. 

“You speak Greek, sir?” he said to Horace. “I have 
been wanting to speak to some of you officers, but this is the 
first time I have heard one of you speaking Greek.” 

“Yes, I speak the language. Is there anything I can do 
for you, sir? ” 

“Do you belong to an English ship-of-war, may I ask?” 

“No; I belong to an armed ship, which is the property of 
my father, who is a Philhellene, and has fitted it out at his 
own expense for the service of Greece, whose flag we now fly.” 


250 


IN GREEK WATERS 


“Your sailors are taking no part in the siege of the cita¬ 
del?” 

“No, sir. My father does not think the expedition a 
useful one, and we are only remaining here to see what takes 
place, and perhaps to give assistance to any who may need it.” 

“We all need it, sir,” the man said eagerly. “We have 
been robbed and plundered by these ruffians, who call them¬ 
selves our friends, and when they run away, which they will 
do directly the Turks come, we shall be held responsible for 
all their misdeeds, and a terrible vengeance will fall upon us. 
I was a wealthy man, sir, a fortnight ago; now I would give 
all I possess to save the lives of my family and myself, and 
there are eight or ten of my friends in the same position. We 
have jewels and money, and are ready to pay any sum to be 
taken off the island before the Turks come. You have but to 
name a price, and if it is within our means we shall be happy 
to pay it.” 

“We are not Greeks,” Horace said angrily, “to make 
money out of the miseries of others.” And then, seeing the 
depressed look of the merchant, he went on more mildly: 
“We do not wish to make money out of your misfortune, sir; 
but I will speak to my father, and I think I can answer for 
him that he will be ready to afford you and your friends and 
families shelter on board his ship. We lately took five hun¬ 
dred Christians off from Cyprus and landed them on the 
Ionian Isles. We came out to fight, but my father has since 
named his ship the Misericordia , and his desire is to help 
persons in distress, whether they be Turks or Christians. I 
will speak to him when I return on board, and if you will be 
here to-morrow at eleven o’clock in the morning I will give 
you his answer.” 

The merchant overwhelmed Horace with thanks. 

“What is the old chap so excited about, Horace?” Tarle- 
ton asked as they resumed their walk. 

Horace repeated the conversation. 

“Poor beggars!” Tarleton said. “A nice position they 



CHIOS 


251 


are in! I wish we had the crew of a man-of-war here; we 
would clear out the town pretty sharply of these ruffians who 
call themselves soldiers, and send these peasants who are 
swarming about the streets back to their mountains. I see 
they have got the muskets your father sent on shore yesterday. 
Much good will they do them! The men had far better be 
at home looking after their vineyards and orchards.” 

Mr. Beveridge agreed at once to afford shelter to the mer¬ 
chants and their families. 

“I thought it would come to this,” he said, “and expected 
some of them would come off and ask to be taken on board 
before; but I suppose they did not know our real character. 
We shall have plenty more applying before this matter is con¬ 
cluded; but I doubt whether Lykourgos and his crew will 
allow them to come on board so long as they have a penny 
left to be wrung out of them. The scoundrel ought to be 
hung, if it was only for being named as he is. It is down¬ 
right profanation to hear such names as Ulysses, Lycurgus, 
Leonidas, and Miltiades applied to men who do not seem to 
possess one single good quality, not even that of courage. 
Tell them, Horace, that we will carry out any arrangements 
for getting them off that they may suggest, and that at any 
hour by night or day the boats shall be at the spot they 
appoint, and that a strong body of men shall be sent on shore 
to cover their embarkation.” 

Martyn himself accompanied Horace the next morning to 
shore, as he thought it would be better that he should hear 
what were the plans of the merchant, and might be able to 
make suggestions as to their being carried out. The Chris¬ 
tian merchant was awaiting them. When they approached he 
entered the house by the door of which he was standing, and 
invited them also to enter. 

“I know the owner of this house,” he said, “and arranged 
with him to have a room where we could speak undisturbed. 
Did any of the officers or soldiers happen to come down the 
lane when I was speaking to you, suspicion would be at once 


252 


IN GREEK WATERS 


roused that some plot or other was on foot. Well, sir, what is 
your father’s answer? ” 

“ He cordially invites you and your friends and their families 
to take refuge on board his vessel, and he will land you at 
Athens, Corinth, or in the Ionian Isles, as you may desire.” 

The Greek clasped his hands in delight. “ Oh, sir, you can¬ 
not tell what a load you have taken off my mind, or what we 
have been suffering of late, with the certainty that ere long 
the Turks will return.” 

“This is Captain Martyn, who commands the vessel,” Hor¬ 
ace said; “ he has come ashore to concert measures for getting 
you on board, that is, if you think that there will be any ob¬ 
stacle in the way of your coming off openly.” 

“ Certainly there will. I am sure they would not allow us 
to leave. Three of my friends went to Lykourgos yesterday 
and said they desired to go with their families on board the 
Greek ships. He got into a fury and threatened to have them 
thrown into prison as traitors, fined them a thousand piastres 
each, and said that anyone leaving the island would be deemed 
a traitor to the cause of Greece and all his property confis¬ 
cated.” 

Horace translated this to Martyn. 

“Then they must get off quietly, Horace; ask him if they 
have formed any plans. Tell him that I will land thirty men 
and bring them up close to the town, if they can slip off and 
join us.” 

Horace put the question. 

“We were talking it over last night,” the merchant said; 
“ it is not easy, because we all have men who call themselves 
officers quartered in our houses. We think that the best way 
will be for our daughters and servants, with the exception of 
one or two, to slip off as soon as it becomes dark, going in 
pairs and carrying with them all the valuables they can. We 
ourselves and our wives will remain for two or three hours, so 
that the men seeing us will suspect nothing. Some of our 
servants, after escorting the ladies and children beyond the 


CHIOS 


253 


[ town, can return and take with them another load. It would 
not do to take large bundles, but the men can carry casks or 
! barrels on their shoulders filled with valuable clothes and 
I stuffs, and as there would be nothing unusual in a man carry¬ 
ing a cask of wine or a barrel of flour, they might pass without 
exciting suspicion. Then, at the moment agreed, we our- 
i selves might slip away and join the rest.” 

“That seems a likely plan,” Martyn said when he under¬ 
stood the details. “Now it is for them to name some spot 
where we can be awaiting them.” 

“We have arranged that,” the Chiot said. “One of my 
| friends has a large farm-house where he and his family take 
up their residence in summer; it stands half a mile from the 
town, on the brow looking down upon the sea; it is a white 
house with two large store-houses for wine and produce stand¬ 
ing behind it.” 

“I know the house,” Horace said; “the road passes a hun- 
! dred yards behind it.” 

“That is the house, sir. It will be dark by seven o’clock, 
and at that hour our servants will begin to start. It is prob¬ 
able that most of the children will be sent on there during the 
day. This could certainly be done without exciting atten¬ 
tion. We ourselves will leave our houses as the clock strikes 
ten.” 

“I should think, Martyn,” Horace said when he had trans¬ 
lated this, “ that we might manage to make things more easy 
for them if we send Marco on shore with half a dozen men 
directly we get back to the ship. We can tell him to hire a 
couple of carts and then to come to these people’s houses. At 
one they could take into the carts a dozen barrels of wine, 
that is to say, wine barrels filled with valuables; at another a 
dozen barrels of flour, at another a cask of currants or olives, 
and so on. I will go round with them, and it will merely 
seem as if we were buying stores for the ship. These rich 
merchants are certain to have the best of everything, and it 
will be natural that we should choose a time like the present 




254 


IN GREEK WATERS 


to lay in a stock, and that they would be glad to sell cheaply. 
Marco and half the men could go with one cart and I could 
go with the rest with the other. That way we should attract 
less attention than by both going about in a crowd.” 

“ I think that is a capital plan, Horace; explain it to him, 
and get the names and addresses of the people who are going 
and the houses that each cart should go to, so that they may 
not cross each other on the way.” 

Horace explained the matter to the merchant. 

“That is kind indeed,” he exclaimed, “and will enable us 
to save all our most precious goods without fear of detection. 
I will go round at once to my friends and tell them to pack 
up their things. There are ten of us who have agreed to make 
the attempt together, which will make five houses for .each 
cart to call at.” And taking out his pocket-book he wrote the 
addresses on two slips of paper. 

There was nothing more to arrange. 

“It will take us an hour and a half to get on board,” Hor¬ 
ace said. “That will be one o’clock. At two we will start, 
and you may expect the carts to be at the houses somewhere 
about four.” 

He and Martyn walked briskly back to the landing-place, 
where a boat met them, having put off as soon as they were 
seen approaching. Mr. Beveridge warmly approved of the 
plan, and at two o’clock ten sailors were landed. Zaimes 
as well as Marco accompanied them, and Miller also went to 
take charge of one party, as it was thought that they were less 
likely to be questioned if an officer went with them. They 
stopped at a farm-house by the way and hired two carts. It 
was arranged that the two Greeks should purchase in the town 
several carcasses of sheep and a quantity of fruit and vege¬ 
tables to place on the carts with the other goods, so as to carry 
out more completely the idea that they were laying in stores for 
consumption on board, and on their way Zaimes suggested 
they should also get a small cask or two of currants and a cask 
of wine for each cart. In packing the goods these should be 


CHIOS 


255 


placed most conspicuously, so that if necessary they could 
knock in the head of the cask with currants, or bore holes 
in that with the wine, and show that the contents were what 
they seemed to be. 

The operation was carried out without difficulty. At each 
place they visited, casks and barrels were at once rolled out 
from the warehouses and placed in the carts. There had evi¬ 
dently been an arrangement between the various families as to 
quantity, and by the time the last houses were visited the carts 
were filled to their full capacity, and the meat, vegetables, 
and fruit piled on the top of all. There was some joking from 
the soldiers as the carts passed down the streets, but the sight 
of the meat and vegetables dispelled any suspicions, and the 
Greeks joked back in return. Neither party knew how the 
other was getting on, as they had not caught sight of each 
other after separating before entering the town. Horace was 
first to reach the spot, a mile out, where they had agreed that 
whichever came first should await the other. In ten minutes 
the second party was seen coming in the distance, and when 
it arrived within a quarter of a mile Horace moved forward 
again. 

Tarleton with the three largest boats was awaiting their 
coming on the beach abreast of the schooner, and by the time 
the contents of the first cart were transferred to the boats the 
second arrived. As soon as everything was on board the drivers 
of the carts were paid the sum agreed upon, and the boats 
rowed off to the schooner. 

“ Have you had any difficulty ? ” Mr. Beveridge asked as 
they came alongside. 

“Not the slightest, father,” Horace replied. “We were 
chaffed a little about our stores, but no one had the least sus¬ 
picion that they were riot what they seemed.” 

The casks were soon got on board and were slung down 
into the hold. 

“What do you suppose they contain, father?” Horace 
asked. 


256 


IN GREEK WATERS 


“Well, of course all their jewels and money are in them, 
and no doubt all their valuable dresses. I expect that the 
bulk is made up of silk and brocades, most of which is ex¬ 
tremely costly. Then there will be embroidered stuffs, some 
of the more valuable of which are worth almost a fortune in 
themselves. Chios is an extremely rich island and its revenues 
are a special appanage of the Sultan and his harem, and 
doubtless the merchants here supply the ladies of the court 
with many of their most valued robes and embroideries.” 

While the boats had been ashore the sailors had again rigged 
up the screen across the main-deck for the use of the ladies 
and children, and had al&> made a smaller compartment for 
the use of the merchants. “There is one comfort,” Miller 
said, “as these people are swells they are not likely to turn 
the ship into such a pig-stye as that last lot did. How many 
do you suppose there will be, Horace? ” 

“ I suppose they will run seven or eight to a family, that is 
seventy-five, and likely enough they may bring five or six men 
and women servants with each family; so I suppose you may 
calculate on a hundred and fifty, Miller.” 

“Ah! well, we can manage that. I should like to see the 
face of that fellow Lykourgos to-morrow morning when he 
finds that some of the men out of whom he had expected to 
make most money have slipped through his fingers.” 

As soon as it became dark thirty men were landed, armed 
to the teeth. Miller took command, and Horace accompa¬ 
nied him with the two Greeks to assist to look after the fugi¬ 
tives. When they reached the farm-house they found about 
thirty young children with their nurses assembled there with 
some eight or ten older girls. They were evidently in a state 
of great alarm, but their spirits rose when Horace and the 
Greeks entered and told them that a guard of English sailors 
were without and that there was no longer a fear of their being 
discovered by any straggling soldiers who might chance to 
visit the house. In a short time the servants, accompanied 
by young women and boys, began to arrive. Most of them 


CHIOS 


257 


carried bundles, and their bulky appearance suggested that 
they had put on a large quantity of clothes under the plain 
dresses they wore. The men all carried barrels or boxes. 
These all returned to the town and came back by half-past 
nine with another load. 

Some excellent wine was served out to the sailors by the 
man who was in charge of the house, who told Horace that 
he had received orders from his master that the sailors were 
to carry away as many barrels of wine as they could take for 
the use of the schooner; and as it was certain that its owner 
would never have an opportunity of drinking it, Horace did 
not hesitate to accept the presem, and thirty barrels of wine, 
each containing about five gallons, were brought out and placed 
in readiness for the sailors to take up. 

“What are you going to do about your loads?” Horace 
asked one of the servants. 

“We have orders, sir, to carry one of them as we go with 
you, and then when the others go off to the ship to return here 
for the second, if you will consent to our doing so.” 

“Certainly,” Horace said. “There can be no possible 
objection to that, providing we all get down to the beach 
without any alarm being given, and of that I do not think 
there is any likelihood. The soldiers will have all returned 
to their quarters before this. The only chance is of our com¬ 
ing across parties of sailors returning to their ships. None of 
these would be strong enough to interfere with us, and even 
if they reported the matter when they got on board, I should 
say that none of the captains would feel sufficient interest 
in the news to take any steps about it.” 

Soon after ten o’clock the merchants with their wives and 
grown-up sons began to arrive, and by half-past the last of 
the party were in. No further time was lost. Fifteen of the 
sailors, each with a barrel of wine on his shoulder, led the 
way under Lieutenant Miller. The merchants and their 
families followed, then came the servants with Horace and 
the rest of the sailors as rear-guard. The road was entirely 


258 


IN GREEK WATERS 


deserted, and they reached the shore without encountering a 
single person. As soon as they did so, Horace told the ser¬ 
vant men to set down their burdens and start back at once. 
The merchants with their wives and families were first trans¬ 
ferred to the schooner, the sailors on shore taking charge of 
the rest of the fugitives and the baggage. Another trip con¬ 
veyed the remaining Chiots to the vessel. When the boats 
returned the casks and barrels of wine were placed on board, 
and the sailors then took their places and rowed off. Horace 
found that the first party had already retired. Hammocks had 
been slung for the women and children, the female attendants 
sleeping on the deck. The merchants and their sons occu¬ 
pied a compartment screened off for them. The men-servants 
coiled themselves away between the guns on deck. ; 

The two Greeks had gone off in the first boat, and already 
prepared some supper, to which Martyn and Horace sat down. 

“I did not wait for you,” Mr. Beveridge said, “as I knew 
that it must be half-past eleven by the time you reached the 
shore, and another good half-hour before you were off. Poor 
people! their gratitude was quite distressing; the men con¬ 
sidered that it was certain they would be massacred by the 
Turks, and their women carried off as slaves. I was obliged 
at last in self-defence to pack them off to bed. The women 
all wanted to kiss my hand, which would have been well 
enough for you young fellows, for some of the girls are lovely. 
The Chiots are celebrated for their good looks; but for a man 
my age it would have been simply embarrassing.” 

“Perhaps they will renew the demonstrations to-morrow,” 
Miller laughed. “If so, I shall get Horace to explain to 
them delicately that our English custom is to salute on the 
face and not on the hand. I did not see any of the girls. I 
left it to Horace to do the polite indoors, while I kept a look¬ 
out with the men outside. I don’t know whether he came in 
for any kisses; if so, he kept it to himself.” 

“No,” Horace laughed. “They were all too anxious about 
their parents’ safety to think of doing the civil thing to me; 


A WHITE SQUALL 


259 


but, as you say, Martyn, there will be time enough to-morrow 
when we see what they are like. I expect to-morrow we shall 
have Lykourgos or some of his officers off here to protest.” 

“That we sha’n’t,” Martyn said, “for we will get up the 
anchor at daybreak and be off before anyone knows what has 
happened. Your father agrees with me that the best plan will 
be to get rid of this cargo at once, and then we can come back 
again for another.” 

“I have asked them where they would like to be landed,” 
Mr. Beveridge said, “and they had already agreed among 
themselves to go to Corfu. In the first place they have no 
love for the Greeks of the mainland, with whom they are 
furious for bringing destruction upon the island by coming 
here withoTit a sufficient force to hold the citadel even if they 
captured it, and they would vastly rather be landed under the 
protection of the British flag. They will have time to settle 
afterwards where they will make their homes.” 


CHAPTER XV 


A WHITE SQUALL 


LL hands were called at five o’clock, when daylight was 



beginning to break in the east; the anchor was got up, 
sail set, and the decks washed down, the usual scrubbing 
being for once omitted in order to avoid disturbing their 
passengers. 

“What are we going to do about feeding them, Miller?” 
Horace asked. “ It was all very well for the people we had 
on board before to get their meals anyhow they could, but 
these have been accustomed to wealth and luxury, and, as the 
leading merchants of Chios, were people of importance.” 

“ Your father and the two Greeks were talking it over yester- 



260 


IN GREEK WATERS 


day evening before you landed, Horace. Of course it is out 
of the question that they could all take their meals in the 
cabin, which your father at first proposed to give up to them. 
Marco suggested that a table should be rigged on the quarter¬ 
deck. We reckoned that there would be about fifty grown up 
or nearly so, that was allowing five for each family. Of course 
the children would have their meals with their nurses below.” 

“That would certainly be the pleasantest way, Miller. 
There is plenty of room for two tables, and as far as length 
goes twelve or fourteen could sit on each side easily enough 
without the tables extending forward of the mainmast. I see 
Tarleton is getting the awning rigged up already. But the 
tables will want to be cleared away after each meal, or there 
will be no room for anything.” 

“ Oh, yes, five minutes will be enough for that. The men 
will bring up all their mess tables, they can be rigged and 
unshipped in no time. The order is that the men are all to 
get into their white ducks at eight bells, as your father means 
to show these Greeks what an English yacht is. Your men 
have rigged up another stove in their cooking place, and have 
borrowed a couple of the sailors, I suppose to wash and cut up 
vegetables, and to act as kitchen-maids.” 

At seven o’clock the Chiots began to come up. Mr. Bever¬ 
idge was already on deck, and requested Horace to assist him 
to set them at their ease. The men were all of the best Greek 
type, courtly and gentle in manner, with refined faces. The 
older women were all more or less inclined to corpulence, 
while some of the young ones fully deserved the terms of 
praise in which Mr. Beveridge had spoken of them the even¬ 
ing before. At first they looked timid at finding themselves 
in scenes so strange to them, but they were soon chattering 
and laughing with each other. They were immensely aston¬ 
ished at the exquisite neatness and cleanliness of the vessel 
and her fittings. 

“Are all English ships as white and clean as this? ” one of 
them asked. 


A WHITE SQUALL 


261 


“All ships of war and yachts. A yacht is a vessel kept by 
a gentleman simply for his own amusement and not for trade. 
This is a yacht, though we have mounted guns, and have come 
out prepared to fight.” 

“ It would be a great pity to fight and spoil everything,” the 
girl said. 

“Oh, we can fight without spoiling everything; though of 
course sometimes a shot may knock things about a bit, the 
damage would soon be repaired.” 

“But you can’t have been fighting yet,” one of the younger 
men said, looking round. 

“We have only had one fight, and that was when most of us 
were ashore. That officer, whom you see there, was on board, 
and he only had ten men with him; but for all that he engaged 
two Turkish frigates, and destroyed one of them.” 

There was an exclamation of astonishment, mingled with a 
little incredulity, from the group round Horace, some of whom 
thought he was trying to make fun of them. 

“I can assure you that it is a fact,” Horace said. “He first 
crippled her, and then set her on fire by firing red-hot balls 
into her.” 

“Was that near Cyprus? ” one of the young men asked. 

“Yes; the rest of us were On shore there, and we brought 
off five hundred Christians from a village that was besieged 
by the Turks.” 

“Yes, that is true,” the young fellow said. “I was told 
about it by one of the officers who lodged in our house. He 
said it was wonderful, and so it was; and the men you have 
here all look so quiet too.” 

“They are on their best behaviour now,” Horace .aughed; 
“but they are all picked men, and have all served in British 
men-of-war.” 

As eight bells rang out a party of sailors came along to the 
quarter-deck, bringing with them half a dozen mess tables, 
which they arranged together, according to the direction of 
Zaimes. 


262 


IN GREEK WATERS 


“But these are nothing like enough, Zaimes,” Horace said, 
going over to him. 

“We are not going to sit down, Mr. Horace. We shall have 
two meals—one at eleven and one at six. We shall put things 
on the table now, and let them eat standing.” 

The cloth was soon spread, and upon it were placed fruit, 
bread and butter, and eggs, a great .tureen filled with coffee, 
and another with hot milk; the whole of the cabin tea and 
coffee cups, and a score of the men’s mugs. 

“Now, ladies and gentlemen,” Mr. Beveridge said, “you 
must help yourselves. I am sorrry to say that our breakfast 
service is quite insufficient for our needs, and that the gentle¬ 
men will have to put up with the sailors’ mugs.” 

Everyone seemed to enjoy the meal; the women sat about 
on the deck in little groups, and the men waited upon them, 
the three officers making themselves very busy in this work. 

“It is disgusting, Horace,” Miller said, “to hear you jab¬ 
bering away with these girls, while we poor beggars can’t say 
a word to them.” 

“But you speak a little Italian, don’t you, Miller?” 

“Yes, I picked up a little when I was on the Mediterra¬ 
nean station.” 

“ Oh well, a little will go a long way sometimes, Miller, 
and some of them are sure to know something of Italian. I 
will soon find out which they are, and introduce them spe¬ 
cially to you.” 

Five or six of the girls knew a little Italian, and most of the 
young men could speak it, Italian being the general language of 
commerce in the Mediterranean, and Miller was soon engaged 
in conversation with some of them. Martyn had broken the 
ice for himself with a mixture of French and Italian; but 
Tarleton, who knew no language but his own, kept away from 
the quarter-deck. 

“What’s the odds,” he said, when Horace tried to induce 
him to go aft. “ If they were going to be on board for a year, 
I would try to get hold of a few Greek words, and do what I 


A WHITE SQUALL 


263 


could; but as it is, it is not worth while bothering one’s self. 
It is no use my trying to make myself agreeable to girls when 
I haven’t a word to say to them. On the whole I am rather 
glad I can’t talk to them. I never had any practice at that 
sort of thing; and if I ever do fall in love, I hope it will be 
with an Englishwoman. Look at Miller there,” he laughed, 
“jawing away with five, or six girls at once, and I don’t be¬ 
lieve one of them has the least idea of what he is saying, 
though they all try to look interested.” 

“They understand he is trying to make himself agreeable, 
Tarleton, and I have no doubt they are grateful and pleased. 

I daresay some of them don’t understand any more Italian 
than he does. Still they are just as much amused, if not 
more, as if they understood him perfectly.” 

After the meal was over some chairs and benches were 
brought up, but the ladies all preferred sitting on the deck, 
and were much pleased when a number of the men’s ham¬ 
mocks were brought up, unrolled, and laid down for them to 
sit upon. Mr. Beveridge chatted with the merchants, the 
younger men smoked and lounged about, Martyn and Miller 
and Horace devoting themselves to the ladies, until eleven 
o’clock, when two long tables were set. Zaimes arranged 
them tastefully with flowers and silver, and a very excellent 
meal was served. After the meal was finished, and the decks, 
cleared, the men were exercised at cutlass drill and in getting 
down and setting the sails, and the Chiots were astonished at 
their discipline and activity. 

“ I have seen vessels get up sail at Chios hundreds of 'Hr ” 
one of the young men said to Horace, “ and everyon 
and bustles about; but with all the noise they take fh 
times as long to get them up as your men do, and 

when the officer gives orders, there is no more soi 

there would be if they were all dumb.” 

“ Captain Martyn says that he will have gun drill to-mor¬ 
row,” Horace said, “and you will see that they are just as 

quiet at their work then as now. You see the three officers 



264 


IN GREEK WATERS 


have all served in our navy as well as the men, and we have 
just the same discipline as there would be in a king’s ship.” 

“One would scarcely think,” Horace remarked to his father 
that evening as they were standing together looking at the 
groups scattered about the deck, “that these people were 
fugitives who have just left their native land, probably for 
life.” 

“I don’t think they quite realize that at present, Horace. 
One or two of the men have been telling me what anxiety they 
have suffered at Chios since the revolution broke out. When 
the news came of some of the massacres of the Greeks, they 
were in constant fear of a retaliation upon them by the Mus¬ 
sulmans, and they made sure that sooner or later, if the war 
went on, Chios would become involved in it. Of course they 
did not suppose that such a mad-brained expedition as that 
of Lykourgos would be undertaken, but supposed that a suffi¬ 
cient force would be sent to ensure the capture of the island, 
accompanied by a fleet that would protect it from that of the 
Turks; but even that was greatly dreaded by them. 

“ They knew that the Turkish provinces governed by Greek 
officials were much more heavily taxed and oppressed than 
those in which the Turks collected the taxation, and knew 
that the change would be, for them, very much for the worse. 
Except that they have the same religion, they have little in 
common with the Greeks in the mainland, and dreaded the 
thought of the Albanians, who would be sure to send over 
armed bands, who would harass and oppress them. Of course 
they have been for centuries under Turkish rule, and the 
island has certainly flourished exceedingly under it. Their 
trad* has been almost entirely with Constantinople, and all 
their connections are Turkish. I can quite understand, there¬ 
fore, their repugnance to a change which would ruin their 
trade and vastly increase their burdens; while, as to masters, 
I should imagine that no one in their senses could prefer 
Albanians to Turks. 

“ Seeing the storm coming, most of the wealthy Chiots have 


A WHITE SQUALL 


265 


prepared in some way for it by sending much of their avail¬ 
able capital, for safety, to correspondents abroad, or by invest¬ 
ing in foreign securities. I believe that all these merchants 
have done so; and as the greater part of their money and 
valuables that remained are at present down in the hold, they 
will be able to live, if not in as great luxury as before, at any 
rate in comfort at Corfu, or wherever they may settle them¬ 
selves; while.several of them have told me that they intend 
again to embark in trade, and, if possible, under our flag. 
They have been asking me a good many questions about our¬ 
selves, and don’t seem at all able to comprehend the interest 
that the Greek revolution has created in Europe; still less 
that an Englishman like myself, who could live comfortably at 
home, should come out here to take part in a struggle that in 
no way concerns him.” 

“What did you answer, father?” Horace asked with a 
slight smile. 

“ I told them that I was but half an Englishman, and that 
my mother was Greek, and that I was devoted to the study of 
the language and customs of the ancients.” 

“I suppose they knew nothing about the ancients, father?” 

“No,” Mr. Beveridge admitted reluctantly. “They had 
heard of the name of Homer, and had a vague sort of knowl¬ 
edge of the early history of Greece—about as vague as the 
ordinary Englishman has of King Arthur and the Knights of 
the Round Table. An English school-boy of twelve knows 
more about ancient Greece than do nineteen Greeks out of 
twenty; though, seeing the interest felt by civilized Europe 
in the matter, it is the fashion among them nc 
feel great enthusiasm on the subject. No; I a 
at these poor people being cheerful, Horae 
escaped the risk of a terible fate; and as to p£ 
feeling of which people who have been under 
hundreds of years know absolutely nothing. They may regret 
their easy, quiet life in Chios; but beyond that, I think they 
have little feeling in the matter.” 


266 


IN GREEK WATERS 


The next morning, after breakfast, the sailors were exer¬ 
cised at the guns, three rounds being fired from each piece. 
Scarcely were the men dismissed from their quarters, and the 
guns secured, before the boatswain went up to Martyn. 

“ I beg your pardon, captain, but look over there. Do you 
see that white cloud?—how quick it rises. I know these 
seas, sir; and that is a white squall, or I am a Dutchman. 
We sha’n’t have more than three or four minutes before it is 
on us.” 

“By Jove, you are right, Tom! All hands get off sail. 
Look smart, my lads; there is a bit-of a squall coming down 
on us. Down topsails; in jibs. Miller, take six hands and 
get this awning off. Horace, get the ladies below at once.” 

As Martyn began to give his orders, Tarleton had run for¬ 
ward to see them carried out; but Miller and Horace had 
continued their conversation without paying much attention 
to them, believing that he was only giving the orders as an 
exercise to the crew, and to show the passengers how quickly 
they could get off sail. His sharp, decided tone, however, 
soon showed them that he was in earnest. Horace looked 
round almost bewildered, for there was scarcely a breath of 
wind; the sky was a deep blue overhead. Miller’s experience 
in the Mediterranean, however, told him which way to look. 

“White squall, by Jove!” he muttered, as his eye fell on 
the cloud that had attracted the boatswain’s attention. Spring¬ 
ing forward he called six of the men, and ran aft with them 
again. Horace, still in ignorance of the reason for the order 
given him, at once proceeded to carry it out. 

Calling out in Greek, “Please go below at once, ladies; ” 
and then to the men, “ Escort the ladies below as quickly as^ 
you can, please.” Then, running forward, he shouted to the 
Greek servants, “ All below, all below! Take the children 
with you; you are in the way here. Hurry down.” 

His orders on the quarter-deck were more quickly obeyed 
than he had expected, for the Chiots, accustomed to these 
sudden and tremendous squalls of the iEgean, glancing round 


A WHITE SQUALL 


2(17 


when they heard the order, perceived the reason for it at once, 
and hurried the ladies below with all speed. 

With so strong a crew it took but a minute to lower the 
gaff topsail from the mainmast and to get the foretop gallant 
sail and topsail down on the caps, and almost before the 
halliards had been let go a dozen men were aloft furling the 
sails. The foresail came down with a run, and the jibs flew 
in from the bowsprit. Martyn himself saw to the lowering of 
the mainsail. 

“ Belay there! ” he called when it was half-way down. 
“Reef it down fully, Mr.Tarleton,” as the young officer, with 
twenty men, sprang to the reef-points. “Now haul on the 
reef-earing. That is it. Well together, lads. Harden it 
down; that will do. Now a pull on the main halliards; that 
is enough. Belay. Lower the peak a bit more; that will do. 
Now we are ready for it. Boatswain! ” 

“Ay, ay, sir,” came from forward. 

“Lower that fore-staysail down, and reef it fully.” 

He looked to windward. A white bank of clouds extended 
half-way up the sky, in front of which were white streamers 
blown out ahead of it. The schooner had already been brought 
round with her head in the direction of the wind, and an 
extra hand had been placed at the wheel. 

“Starboard a little,” Martyn cried to the men at the wheel. 
“Slack off the mainsheet a bit, Mr. Miller. I don’t want to 
be taken aback.” 

A minute later a white line was seen approaching them on 
the water with the speed of a race-horse, and then with a 
shriek the squall was upon them. Stripped as the vessel was 
of all her canvas, save the diminished fore-staysail, the main¬ 
sail being too far over to draw, she lay down until the water 
poured in over the lee gunwale from the pressure of wind on 
her masts and rigging. Her head payed off. 

“Now haul on the mainsheet,” Martyn shouted to a dozen 
sailors who had hold of it, and dragged it in hand over hand. 
As the sail fluttered in her head again came up into the wind. 



268 


IN GREEK WATERS 


“That will do. Belay there! keep her at that, lads,” Martyn 
said, taking his place by the side of the men at the helm. 
“Keep the staysail full, but nothing more.” 

The schooner had now begun to move fast through the water 
as close-hauled to the wind as her sails would stand. Though 
still heeling over, her deck was now free of water, as that 
which she had taken on board had rushed out through the 
port-holes. 

“She will do nicely now,” Martyn said to his first lieuten¬ 
ant. “ You can get the peak up again, Mr. Miller; she will 
stand it now.” 

The schooner was now retracing the course she had before 
been sailing on. 

“ It is lucky it came when it did, Miller. Another couple 
,of hours and we should have been in the thick of the islands. 
As it is now, we have clear water, and at any rate, if we are 
obliged to change our course, we can run down south compar¬ 
atively clear of everything. It is lucky we saw it coming in 
time. It was the boatswain warned me. If we had not got 
the sail off her we should have lost our spars, and perhaps 
been dismasted, and with all these islands down to leeward 
we should have been in an awkward fix.” 

“Yes, indeed;” Miller agreed. “We are all right now. 
Of course we shall get some sea soon, but these squalls don’t 
last many hours. It is only the first blow that is to be feared.” 

“ Do you think, Miller, you could get that pivot-gun sent 
down below? It is a big weight on deck, and when the sea 
gets up she will feel it.” 

“I think so, sir. There is no sea on yet to speak of.” 

The gun was amidships, half-way between the fore and 
mainmasts, and there was a hatchway just beyond the frame¬ 
work on which it travelled. Calling the crew together, Miller 
got tackles on the mainmast, and these with the blocks of the 
throat halliards of the foresail were hooked on to strops round 
the gun. Ropes were attached to it and manned to prevent 
it from swinging away to leeward when hoisted from the car¬ 
riage. 


A WHITE SQUALL 


269 


“Now all ready,” Miller said. “Hoist on the falls hand¬ 
somely, inch by inch. Stand fast to those stay-ropes; that is 
right. Now haul her aft. Lower away a little forward and 
let her swing gradually aft; that does it. Now she is over 
the hatchway. Lower away a little aft. Let her go down, 
breech foremost; that will do. Now a dozen of you go down 
to the main deck. You go down with them, Mr. Tarleton, 
and steer her clear through the lower hatchway.” 

Gradually the muzzle of the heavy gun sank below the deck, 
and in five minutes it was safely stowed in the bottom of the 
hold. Then the hatches were put on again and battened down 
securely, and Miller went aft. 

“That is a good job, Miller,” Martyn said. “The sea is 
getting up fast, and in another five minutes it would not have 
been safe to do it. It will make all the difference to us in 
such a short choppy sea as we shall be having.” 

For six hours the wind blew with unabated force. A heavy 
sea got up, and, buoyant as she was, the schooner shipped 
water heavily over the bow, the seas being too short to give 
her time to rise and fall regularly over them. At the end of 
that time the wind fell almost as suddenly as it had risen, and 
half an hour later the schooner was on her course again, with 
all her lower sails set. It was not until evening that the sea 
had gone down sufficiently for the passengers to begin to make 
their appearance again on deck, looking worn out and ex¬ 
hausted by sea-sickness. 

By this time the schooner was among the islands, and was 
passing through the Mykonos Channel, between the island of 
that name and Tenos. Syra rose above the water almost 
ahead, while Rhenea and Delos lay on her beam to the south. 
Her topsails were set now, and she was running fast through 
the water, her course being laid to pass between Seriphos and 
Siphnos, beyond which it was a straight course to Cape 
Malea, at the southern point of the Morea. A sharp look-out 
was kept at night for Anti-Melos on the one hand, and Fal- 
conera on the other. The former was made out, the land 



270 


IN GREEK WATERS 


being high; but Falconera, a mere rock, was passed unob¬ 
served. In the morning the schooner was running through 
the Cervi Channel, between Cythera and Cervi, which island 
almost touches the mainland. A quiet night’s rest had com¬ 
pletely restored the passengers, who came on deck early, and 
watched with interest the rocky shore of the Morea as they 
coasted along it. 

Three days later the Misericordia dropped her anchor in 
the harbour of Corfu. 

Mr. Beveridge was again overwhelmed with thanks by the 
grateful Chiots. Upon the way they had inquired of him if 
he had a wife or daughters, and were quite disappointed at 
hearing that he had no near female relatives, as they had 
intended to send a consignment of choice stuffs and embroid¬ 
eries to them in token of their gratitude. Before landing they 
handed to Martyn a hundred pounds to be divided among the 
crew, and on the day after landing sent off a very handsome 
case of pistols to each of the officers. As their goods were 
being got up from the hold they pointed out four barrels 
which were to remain behind. 

“We brought them off specially for you, Mr. Beveridge,” 
they said. “ They are the very choicest vintage of Chios, and 
we do hope that though you have refused to accept any sub¬ 
stantial proof of our gratitude, you will not refuse to take 
these.” 

The decks of the Misericordia seemed curiously still and 
deserted after the departure of their guests. It had been a 
very pleasant week while the Chiots had been on board, and 
Martyn and Miller both looked out of spirits, having tempo¬ 
rarily lost their hearts to two of the Greek girls. 

“We have the best of it now,” Tarleton laughed to the 
doctor. “What is the use of a week’s flirtation? Look at 
the parting at the end of it. The girls were pretty enough* 
no doubt; but what good would it be to take home a wife 
who did not speak your language, who was ignorant of English 
ways, and would be miserable in our climate, besides being 


A WHITE SQUALL 


271 


of a different religion. I think it is just as well that the 
voyage was not longer; as it is, they will soon get over it.” 

The captain and first officer had indeed but little time to 
think over it, for on the evening of the day after their arrival 
sail was again set on the schooner, and she started on her 
return to Chios, where, as Mr. Beveridge said, they were likely 
to find plenty more opportunities for doing good. The wind 
held steady, and they made a quick passage. Scarcely had 
they dropped anchor when a boat came off to them bearing an 
angry message from Lykourgos. 

“You have assisted deserters to escape from the island,” he 
said, “and if any of you set foot on shore you will at once be 
arrested.” 

They learned shortly afterwards from a boat that came along¬ 
side to sell fish that many of the richer inhabitants had been 
arrested and very heavily fined upon the accusation that they 
also intended to desert, and that all who had property had 
been compelled to pay considerable sums for protection against 
the excesses of the troops who had come, as they pretended, 
to deliver them. The officers were furious at the message 
from Lykourgos, and proposed going ashore with a strong 
party of armed sailors. Mr. Beveridge, however, decided 
that no steps should be taken for a day or two. 

“We don’t want to become actually embroiled with these 
people unless it is necessary,” he said. “The Turkish fleet 
is expected here every day now, and Lykourgos and his crew 
will, we may be sure, take flight as soon as they appear, and 
we shall then have plenty of scope for our work. At any rate 
we will wait two or three days and see how matters turn up. 
If necessary we can then do as you propose, seize half a dozen 
of the ships, and tell the rest we will sink them if they don’t 
pub to sea; that wfill bring the fellow to his senses at once. I 
don’t want to do it if I can help it, because we should after¬ 
wards be liable to attack at any of the islands we might hap¬ 
pen to put into.” 

A few hours later a fast Greek felucca came up and 


IN GREEK WATERS 


070 


anchored between the schooner and the other vessels. A boat 
was lowered and rowed at once towards the transports. 

“ I fancy that fellow must have brought some news,” Martyn 
said. “ Horace, will you go on board of him and find out 
where he comes from, and whether he has heard anything of 
the Turkish fleet? ” 

In ten minutes Horace reported: r 4 

“ The Turks are only a few miles from the north of the 
island. The felucca has been watching them for the Iasi, 
week. They have been taking troops on board at all the ports 
on the mainland as they came down.” 

Already the fleet had diminished by at least two-thirds 
since Lykourgos landed; but a small proportion of the plunder 
had fallen to the sailors, and as it was for this alone that the 
craft had taken part in the expedition, the greater portion 
soon became discontented and sailed away. As the Turkish 
fleet approached the island, a Turkish sloop, which had gone 
on ahead to ascertain the position of the Greeks, ran ashore 
and fell into the hands of the Greeks, who at once put to 
death every soul on board—the fate that had befallen every 
prisoner they had taken. Having thus done their utmost to 
exasperate the Turks, and to imperil the safety of the Chris¬ 
tian inhabitants of the island, the Greeks made no effort to 
oppose the landing of the Mussulmans, but retired precipi¬ 
tately on their approach, and the Turks entered Ch’os, plun¬ 
dering the town of everything that had escaped the bands of 
Lykourgos, the irregulars who formed part of the army mur¬ 
dering every Christian they met. 

Lykourgos had retreated to the village of St. George, whence, 
after a feeble attempt at defence, he escaped with his followers 
onboard some Psarian ships that had, fortunately for him, 
arrived. These islanders had strongly opposed the expedition 
to Chios, and had taken no part in it, fearing to bring dowik 
the Turkish fleet upon themselves, as Psara lay but a shorr 
distance north of Chios. They maintained their fleet in port 
to aid in its defence should the Turks attack them. As soon, 


A WHITE SQUALL 


273 


however, as they saw the Turkish fleet sail past Psara on its 
way to Chios they at once put to sea with the intention of 
harassing the Turks and rendering some assistance to the 
Christians. 

The vengeance of the Turks now fell upon the unfortunate 
Chiots, who had been perfectly innocent of all share in the 
, proceedings of Lykourgos, and who had already suffered so 
heavily at the hands of him and his robber bands. In the 
city the wealthier class generally succeeded in purchasing the 
protection of Turks in authority by paying large sums of 
money, but the rest were either slaughtered or seized to be 
sold into slavery. Three thousand Chiots, mostly the peas¬ 
antry that had come down from the hills, retired to the monas¬ 
tery of Aghios Minas, five miles south of the city. The Turks 
surrounded them and summoned them to surrender. They 
refused to surrender, and the building was carried by storm, 
“and all within it put to death. Two thousand persons were 
similarly slain at the capture of the monastery of Nea Mone; 
most of them were put to death by the sword, and the rest 
perished in the conflagration of the monastery. 

Kara Ali, the capitan-pasha,* did all in his power to save 
the island from being laid waste, knowing that the loss of the 
revenue derived from the island would greatly vex the sultan 
and his seraglio, to whom this revenue was specially appro¬ 
priated The regular troops were kept fairly in order, but 
the Bashi-Bazouks, that is the volunteers who had flocked to 
his standard, scattered over the island, plundering and slay¬ 
ing, but more especially carrying off women and children for 
sale in the slave-markets. The sultan, determined to strike 
terror into the hearts of ^the Greenes of the island, executed at 
Constantinople some Chiot hostages that had been sent there, 
and ordered the archbishop and seventy-five other Chiots to be 
executed by the capitan-pasha. During the whole time Ly- 
^tourgos had been there the vessels from Psara they had been 
carrying off the Chiots from small ports and quiet bays round 
the island, and it was estimated that some fifteen thousand had 


274 


IN GREEK WATERS 


been taken off in this way either before the arrival of the 
Turks or during the continuance of the massacres by them. 
The work was carried on with great vigour by the Psarians 
who reaped a rich harvest from their operations, demanding 
and receiving all the valuables of the unfortunate fugitives as 
the price for their passage to another island. Thus large 
numbers of wealthy Chiots were reduced to the most abject 
poverty by the avarice and extortion of those who professed to 
save them. 

The Misericordia was very busy during the three weeks that 
followed the Turkish re-occupation of the island. Cruising 
round and round she carried off large numbers of fugitives, 
conveying them across to the nearest Greek islands. After 
making three such trips, and carrying over some twelve hun¬ 
dred fugitives, she left the work of rescue to the Psarians, and 
took up her station between the island and the mainland to 
cut off the craft that were, as they learned, conveying the 
women and children to the slave-markets of Smyrna. As 
speed was here of the greatest utility, vessel after vessel was 
overhauled and compelled to bring to by her guns. Then the 
boats went alongside, forced the Turkish sailors and Bashi- 
Bazouks to take to their boats, and then after transporting the 
rescued women and children to the schooner, set fire to the 
ships. 

No less than eighteen were overhauled and destroyed in the 
course of a week—fourteen hundred women and children being 
rescued, the first two batches being landed at Psara as the 
nearest Greek island, while the last batch was taken to Athens. 
On returning from that trip they found that the destruction 
they caused had so alarmed the ship-owners of Smyrna that 
the traffic by sea had almost entirely ceased, and that -the 
slaves were now carried across in boats or small vessels to the 
mainland opposite the island, which was but six or seven miles 
away.. Here it was difficult to interrupt it, for the Turkish 
fleet lay off the town of Chios, and the smaller ships cruised 
abqut in the channel. 


A WHITE SQUALL 


275 


Trusting to her superior sailing power, the Misericordia 
entered by the southern, which was the broader end of the 
straits, and kept hovering about between the island and the 
mainland. She was frequently chased by the Turks, and 
several times engaged their cruisers at a distance, the supe¬ 
rior rapidity of her fire, and the ease with which she manoeu¬ 
vred, giving her a great advantage over her clumsy opponents. 
Two of the Turkish corvettes were so severely handled that 
they had to retire under the shelter of the guns of the fleet. 
Over a score of small craft were intercepted and destroyed, 
and two hundred and fifty more slaves rescued. At night she 
generally ran across and anchored in some indentation on the 
Turkish side, going in after nightfall, knowing that the Turkish 
cruisers always retired before dark to their anchorage off Chios. 

One night they were at anchor in a deep bay near the narrow 
and northern mouth of the straits. At about three in the 
morning Horace was on the watch with Miller, and was walk¬ 
ing up and down the quarter-deck with him, when one of the 
quarter-masters came aft. 

“It seems to me, sir,” he said to the first lieutenant, “that 
I can hear some sort of noise out seaward.” 

Miller stopped in his walk and listened intently. “There 
is some sort of noise, sure enough, quarter-master.” 

It was a quiet night, not a breath of wind was stirring, but 
a confused sound was audible like that of small waves break¬ 
ing on a stony beach. “What do you make it out to be?” 
he asked the quarter-master. “ It is too irregular and con¬ 
fused for oars.” 

“I don’t know, sir; it ain’t the sound of the oars of one 
boat or of two, but I should say that it might be the sound of 
a dozen. ” 

“I think you are right,” Miller said after listening for a 
while. “I don’t see what else it can be. Go down and call 
Captain Martyn.” 

In two or three minutes Martyn was on deck. “You make 
out oars, I hear, Miller? ” 


276 


IN GREEK WATERS 


“I am not sure that it is the sound of oars, but it may be.” 

Martyn listened attentively. 

“I have very little doubt it is that,” he said. “It is possi¬ 
ble some boat may have gone over from this side with the 
news that we are here, or they may have arranged some fire 
signal and given notice in that way, and they have sent the 
boats of the fleet across to cut us out. Well, if so, we have 
got to fight; there is not a breath of wind. Call the other 
watch on deck, quarter-master.” 

The men soon tumbled up. 

“Will you see to getting the boarding nettings up, Mr. 
Miller. Mr. Tarleton, get a boat put in the water, ship a 
light anchor, and drop it a cable length of her quarter. Get 
springs into both cables, so that we can work her round and 
keep her broadside on to an attack. Horace, will you call 
up your father in the first place, and go down with the two 
Greeks to the lower deck and get all that mob of women and 
children down into the hold. Call the men to quarters, boat¬ 
swain; open the magazine, get up canister and grape; let the 
men muster with muskets and boarding-pikes.” 

The guns were run in and loaded, and when everything was 
in readiness a dead silence reigned fore and aft. The noise 
was now much louder, and there could be no doubt any longer 
that it was caused by the approach of a large number of boats; 
then Martyn spoke in a clear voice that could be heard from 
end to end of the schooner. 

“As you can hear for yourselves, men, it is evident that we 
are about to be attacked by a flotilla of boats. Well, we have 
got to beat them off. You know, without my telling you, that 
there is no mercy to be expected at the hands of the Turks if 
they become the masters of this ship, se we have got to beat 
them off; and as it is a choice between doing so and of being 
murdered afterwards, I am sure I need not tell you that we 
must fight to the last, and I for one have very little fear of 
what the result will be. We have done good work as British 
sailors in saving life up to this point, and now we have got to 


FIRE-SHIPS 


277 


show them what British sailors can do when they are fighting 
for their own lives. Don’t cheer, lads, they might hear it 
across the water, and they may as well think they are going to 
take us by surprise; we will cheer when we have beaten them 
off.” 

A hum of approval ran round the ship, and then the men 
stood to their guns with their pistols in their belts, and their 
muskets and boarding-pikes ready at hand. Mr. Beveridge 
with the two Greeks had taken their positions, armed with 
rifles, near the wheel. 

“They must be coming very slowly, Tarleton,” Miller mut¬ 
tered impatiently. “They must be a mile away still.” 

“ I expect the boats are crowded with troops, Miller, and I 
daresay they are rowing easily so as to keep well in a body.” 

“I suppose that is it; but I wish the beggars would make 
haste. I hate this waiting.” 

“So do I,” Tarleton agreed. “Well, we shall give them a 
hot reception when they ,do come. If it were anyone but 
Turks, I should say we were going to have very hot work of it. 
The Turks are good fellows to fight on shore, but they are no 
good on the water, and I expect they will attack us pell-mell 
without the least plan or order. Well, we shall soon know; 
another ten minutes, and they will be near enough to begin.” 


CHAPTER XVI 

FIRE-SHIPS 

T HE time passed slowly as they were waiting for the attack 
by the Turkish boats. The men muttered and growled to 
each other at the delay. In order to give them something to 
do, Miller sent all those who were not stationed at the guns 
down below to fetch up a number of 32-pound shot and place 



278 


IN GREEK WATERS 


them in the racks, and some of the men were told off to jump 
up on to the rail as soon as the boats came alongside, and to 
throw the shot over the top of the boarding-netting down into 
the boats. 

“I wish it was not so confoundedly dark, Miller, and that 
we could make the fellows out,” Martyn said. 

“ I have got rockets and blue lights, sir. Shall I send a 
rocket up? They are sure to find us, so we lose nothing by 
showing them where we are.” 

“Yes, they are sure to find us. I don’t like their being 
such a long time in getting to us.” 

“They do come wonderfully slow,” Miller agreed. 

“Do you know, Miller, I have been thinking for some time 
that there must be some cause for it, and the only reason I can 
see is that they may be towing.” 

“By Jove, so they may! I did not think of that. It will be 
awkward if we have got a ship to fight as well as the boats.” 

“Very awkward. Send up a rocket, we may as well settle 
the question. Pass the word round for the men to train their 
guns as nearly as they can in the direction in which we can 
hear the oars, and to fire when they get light.” 

A minute later a rocket shot up in the air. As it burst a 
number of boats were seen crowded together, towing behind 
them two large brigs. There was a moment’s pause while the 
men at the guns adjusted their aim, then the pivot-gun roared 
out, and the four on the broadside followed in quick succes¬ 
sion. The distance was about six hundred yards, and the 
crashing of wood, followed by a chorus of shouts and cries, 
arose as the storm of grape swept down upon the boats. 

“Load again, lads, as quick as you can,” Martyn shouted. 
“Show a couple of blue lights, quarter-master. Boatswain, 
load the pivot with, ball, and fire as fast as you can at the 
brigs; never mind the boats, we will attend to them.” 

The blue lights were lit and a rocket sent up, so as to burst 
over the enemy, and again a broadside of grape was poured 
in, while a shot from the pivot-gun crashed into the bows of 



REPELLING THE TURKISH BOARDERS 








































- 



























/ 


























































FIRE-SHIPS 


279 


one of the brigs; these had apparently been lashed together, 
so that the boats could tow them on a broad front. A con¬ 
fused din came across the water; shouts, cries, and orders 
mingled together. As far as could be seen everything was in 
confusion. Some of the boats had sunk, and the occupants 
were being pulled on board of the others. Some had thrown 
off their tow-ropes and were heading for the schooner, others 
lay helpless in the water. 

“Keep the rockets going, quarter-master,” Martyn said; 
“ the more light we have the better. Horace, tell the men at 
the aft and forward guns to aim at the boats rowing towards 
us; let the two midship guns keep on at the crowd in front of 
the brigs. They have sent a pretty strong force against us. 
There must have been fully twenty of these boats at first; 
there are about sixteen of them now, and they are all large 
ones. Depress the guns on the other broadside as far as they 
will go, Mr. Tarleton, we shall have some of them round on 
that side presently. Cant them down as much as you can.” 

Two more of the boats towing were disabled by the next 
broadside, and the rest, throwing off the ropes, rowed straight 
for the schooner. 

“Aim steadily, men!” Martyn shouted. “Pick out your 
boats before you fire.” 

Two of the boats were sunk as they approached, three 
others fell behind crippled; but the others, with loud shouts, 
made straight at the vessel. As they approached her they 
opened a fire of musketry, which was answered by the rifles 
and muskets of the sailors. As they swept up alongside shots 
were heaved down into them, and the crashing of planks told 
that they had done their work. The guns on the starboard 
side were silent at first, as the first boats came up so close 
alongside that they could not reach them; but those that fol¬ 
lowed were further out, and two were instantly sunk. 

As the Turks strove to climb up the side and cut their way 
through the boarding-netting, they were shot down by pistols 
or run through by boarding-pikes. A few managed to climb 


280 


IN GREEK WATERS 


over or force their way through the netting, but these were 
cut down before they could obtain a footing on deck. For 
ten minutes the fight went on by the flare of the blue lights, 
and then eight Turkish boats, which alone floated, rowed 
away, crowded with the survivors from the others. A loud 
cheer broke from the schooner. 

“Never mind them, my men,” Martyn shouted; “load with 
ball now and aim at the brigs.” 

These had taken no part whatever in the fight. Left 
by the boats head on to the schooner, and almost without 
steerage-way, they had in vain endeavoured to get broadside 
on so as to bring their guns to bear. The lashings had been 
cut, and the rudders been put in opposite directions; they 
had drifted a little apart with their heads outwards, and as 
the boats rowed away from the schooner they opened fire with 
their bow-guns. The boatswain, with the men working the 
pivot-gun, had from the first continued steadily at their work 
regardless of the din around them, Horace taking his place 
beside them, in order to call them off to aid in repelling the 
Turks should they gain a footing anywhere on the deck. 
When the boarding-netting had been triced up, a gap had been 
left opposite the gun, and the fire at the brigs had been kept 
up without intermission, every shot raking one or other of 
them fore and aft. 

As soon as the boats were fairly away, the guns from the 
starboard side were run across, the spare ports being thrown 
open, and the eight guns all brought into play to aid the pivot- 
gun. As soon as the boats reached the brigs they took shelter 
behind them, and in a short time both craft began to swing 
round, their guns firing as they were brought to bear. 

“Eight guns a side,” Miller said; “but it would not matter 
if there were twenty, if they did not aim better than that; ” 
for not a single shot had struck the schooner. One or two 
passed overhead, but the rest went wide. 

Instead of the brigs being left broadside on as they had 
expected, their heads swept round until they were stern on to 
the schooner, then they began slowly to glide away. 


FIRE-SHIPS 


281 


“They have had enough of it,” Miller exclaimed, and 
another cheer broke from the schooner. 

“Cease firing! ” Martyn said. “If they leave us alone we 
are content to leave them alone; they must have suffered 
tremendously as it is.” 

An examination was now made as to the casualties. Four 
men had been killed, all were shot through the head, as they 
had fired over the bulwark at the boats as they came alongside; 
six others were wounded more or less seriously, by pistol shots 
that had been fired by the Turks as they tried to climb on 
board—a small total indeed, considering the nature of the 
attack. When morning dawned the brigs could be made out 
near the opposite shore, they were still being towed by the 
boats; but as they were looking at them, sail was made as a 
light breeze sprang up. When the wind reached them, the 
mainmast of one was seen to go over the side, having doubt¬ 
less been wounded by the raking fire, and carrying in its fall 
the fore top-gallant mast and topmast. A quarter of an hour 
later the breeze reached the schooner. The decks had been 
already washed down, and everything had resumed its ordinary 
aspect, and before getting up the anchor the four men who 
had fallen, and who had already been sewn up in hammocks, 
were committed to the sea, Mr. Beveridge reading the funeral 
service over them. Mr. Macfarlane reported that the wounded 
were all likely to do well. 

As soon as the fight was over the women and children, who 
had been suffering agonies of terror while it had been going 
on, had been brought out from the hold and allowed to sleep 
as usual on the lower deck, which had been entirely given up 
to them; and when the schooner got under weigh they were 
permitted to come up on deck. Although they had been 
assured by Zaimes and his brother that all danger was over, 
their first action on coming up was to look round timidly, and 
they were evidently greatly relieved when they saw that the 
sea was clear of enemies. They looked much surprised at 
seeing everything going on as usual, and at the absence of 


282 


IN GREEK WATERS 


any signs of the terrible conflict they had heard raging round 
them the night before—the bullet marks in the bulwarks 
being the only evidences of what had passed. It had already 
been decided to sail for Greece in the course of a day or two, 
as they had as many fugitives on board as they could carry, 
and it was now determined to do so at once. As they sailed 
west they made out a large number of ships approaching, and 
were soon running through the Greek fleet. 

“I am sorry we left now,” Miller said; “we shall miss a 
fight.” 

“I expect we shall be back in time,” Macfarlane remarked; 
“ the Greeks are in no great hurry to fight. It is two months 
since they were sent for, when the landing was made at Chios; 
and after taking all this time to make up their minds about 
it, they are likely to take a few days before they make up their 
minds to have a tussle with the Turks. The Greek mind, I 
observe, is full of contradictions; sometimes, especially if 
there is plunder to be got, their eagerness is just wonderful; 
but when it is a question of fighting, their caution is very 
remarkable.” 

Miller laughed. “I daresay you are right, doctor, and I 
don’t feel at all confident that there will be a fight. So far 
the Greek fleet has done nothing, and their only idea of fight¬ 
ing a Turkish ship has been to launch a fire-ship against it.” 

“Fire-ships are no good against enemies who know what 
they are doing,” Martyn said. “A couple of boats can always 
tow a fire-ship clear; but the Turks are lubberly sailors, and 
these fire-ships seem almost to paralyse them.” 

“ I can’t make it out,” Miller put in, “why the Turks should 
manoeuvre their vessels so badly, considering that their sailors 
are for the most part Thessalians, drawn from the Mohamme¬ 
dan sea-side villages, Albanians by blood, just as the Hydriots 
are.” 

“They want British officers,” the doctor said. “Officers 
are always the weak point with the Turks. There are no 
braver soldiers in the world when they are well led. But they 


FIRE-SHIPS 


283 


never are well led now; their pashas seem to be chosen for 
stupidity and obstinacy. It is a great pity that we did not 
make up our minds to take Turkey instead of India. Eh, 
man! we should have made a grand country of it when we 
had once got it into order.” 

“ We shall make a grand country of India some day, doctor. 
I have never been out there; but there is no doubt that just 
what you say about the Turks is true of the natives there, and 
they make very good soldiers when they have British officers 
to lead them.” 

“So they say, Captain Martyn; but you must remember that 
they have only fought against other natives without British 
officers to lead them. We must wait till we see them fighting 
against European troops of some other nation before we can 
say that they are fine soldiers.” 

“ If we wait till then, we are likely to wait a long time, 
doctor. Besides, you must remember they did fight well against 
the French troops under Dupleix.” 

“ So they did, but not till they got the idea that our soldiers 
were better than the French. But, as you say, it will be a long 
time before they get the chance again. The French are no 
longer a power in India; nor are the Dutch; and the distance 
is too long for either ever to send out an army big enough to 
wrest India from us; and as to marching by land—well, it 
could not be done.” 

The next day they reached the port of Athens, and got rid 
of their cargo of passengers, and then, with every sail set, 
hurried back to Chios, touching at Psara on the way, as, from 
the direction in which the Greeks were steering, they thought 
it probable they might have made a stay there. A small 
Psariot vessel had just come in from the fleet, and Horace, 
who had gone ashore with Marco, learned that Miaoulis, the 
Greek admiral, had coasted along the north of Chios, and that 
the Turks had at once weighed anchor and gone out to engage 
him. The Greeks, not caring to fight in the narrow waters, 
where their power of manoeuvring would be thrown away, 


284 


IN GREEK WATERS 


had stood out, and an engagement had taken place at the 
mouth of the Gulf of Smyrna.” 

“We fought most valiantly,” the Greek said, “and it was a 
drawn battle.” 

“But what was done?” Horr.ee asked. “How many ves¬ 
sels were sunk on each side? ” 

“ Oh, there were no vessels sunk. They fired at us, and 
we fired at them.” 

“Were there many killed and wounded?” 

“No; I don’t think there were any killed and wounded. 
You see we manoeuvred round the Turks. We could not go 
near, because their guns were much heavier than ours. We 
sent down a fire-ship among them; but unfortunately they 
evaded it, and some of our most daring captains ventured so 
close that their ships were struck by the Turkish shot. Yes¬ 
terday the combat was renewed again. The cannonading was 
like thunder, and this morning we again fought. Then we 
needed rest, and to get fresh meat we sailed back.” 

Horace had difficulty in restraining his expressions of dis¬ 
gust at the conduct of the fleet that had, after two months’ 
delay, at last sailed to annihilate the Turks; and as they 
walked back to their boat Marco poured out, in an undertone, 
volumes of execrations in choice Greek. 

As they reached the schooner the doctor looked over the 
side. “We are not too late, Horace; there’s the Greek fleet 
rounding the point. As we can’t make out with our glass a 
shot-hole in their sails or a splinter on their bulwarks, it is 
evident that I was right, and that we are in plenty of time to 
see the engagement.” 

“You are mistaken, doctor,” Horace said as he reached 
the deck. “ There has been a great naval battle, lasting three 
days. There are no killed or wounded; but one or two ships, 
commanded by daring captains, ventured within gun-shot of 
the Turks, and were struck. That is the exact history of the 
affair, as I learned it from one of the heroes.” 

“Is that really the story you have heard, Horace?” Mr. 
Beveridge asked. 


FIRE-SHIPS 


285 


“It is, father; almost in the words that it was told to me.” 

“I really think,” Martyn said, seeing how depressed Mr. 
Beveridge looked at the news, “ that much more could hardly 
be expected from the Greeks. Their ships are for the most 
part small, and their metal .ry light. They have not the 
slightest idea of discipline or of working in concert. A 
Turkish broadside would sink half a dozen of them if they 
ventured to close quarters; and of course their superior sea¬ 
manship is not of the slightest avail as long as they fight at a 
distance.” 

“It would avail if they had pluck,” Horace said bitterly. 
“ The English ships that went out to engage the great galleons 
of the Spanish Armada were as inferior in tonnage and in 
weight of metal as the Greeks are; but for all that they gave 
a good account of them.” 

. “Yes, Horace; but you must remember that the English 
sailors had been fighting and thrashing the Spaniards for years 
before, and had come almost to despise them; while the 
Greeks have never fought before, have no confidence in them¬ 
selves, and hold the Turks in high respect.” 

“You can’t expect,” the doctor put in, “that bulldogs are 
going to be manufactured out of mongrels in one generation, 
Horace. A fighting race grows up little by little. The Greeks 
fought just as pluckily in the old days, against big odds, as 
we ever did, and may do it again in time; but they have got 
to be built up to it.” 

“Thank you, doctor,” Mr. Beveridge said. “We keep on 
forgetting that the Greeks have been slaves, and that slaves 
lose all their military virtues. It was just the same thing with 
the Britons. Their valour excited the admiration of Caesar; 
but after being under the domination of the Romans for gen¬ 
erations, they completely lost all their manhood, and fell easy 
victims to the Saxons. We must not be too hard on the 
Greeks, Horace, or expect them to behave as men whose 
fathers have been free and independent.” 

In the evening Miller went ashore with Mr. Beveridge and 


286 


IN GREEK WATERS 


had a talk with some Philhellenes who had joined the expe¬ 
dition. They all agreed that Miaoulis had manoeuvred his 
ships well, always keeping the weather-gauge of the Turks; 
but there was no shadow of discipline among the ships, and 
their fire was as wild and inefficient as that of the Turks, the 
men loading and firing as quickly as they could, quite regard¬ 
less of the direction or distance of their shot, the great part 
of which entered the sea half-way between the combatants. 

“Kanaris is here,” they said, “and you will see that he at 
least will attempt something against the Turks before he is 
done.” 

It was not, however, until fifteen days later that any move 
was made. Kanaris had paid a visit to the Misericordia , and 
was greatly struck by the order and discipline that prevailed. 

“ Our men will not submit to it, Mr. Beveridge. It is in 
vain to assure them that nothing can be done unless we can 
introduce discipline such as prevails on ships of war of other 
nations. Unfortunately they have been accustomed to an¬ 
other state of things. The sailors are always paid by a share 
in the profits of our voyages, and everyone has a say as to 
the ports to be visited and the course to be steered. Be¬ 
fore any change is made there is always a general council of 
all on board, and the matter is decided by vote. Such being 
the habit, you can understand the difficulty of getting these 
men to submit to anything like discipline. Another thing 
is, that the ships belong to private persons, and not to the 
state, although they may receive pay from government. They 
are therefore very chary of exposing their vessels to the risk 
of loss, for which, more likely than not, they would never 
receive a penny from the central government, which has plenty 
of objects of much greater interest to its members to spend 
its money upon. Until some total change takes place in the 
organization and manning of our fleet, I can see no hope of 
any improvement.” 

On the 18th of June two ships got up anchor and sailed. 
On board the schooner their progress was watched with inter- 


FIRE-SHIPS 


287 


est. Kanaris had confided to Mr. Beveridge that the ships 
were loaded with combustibles, and that he was going to 
attempt to set fire to the Turkish fleet. The wind was con¬ 
trary, and the two craft tacked backwards and forwards off 
the north of Chios as if intending to beat up the Gulf of 
Smyrna. Four hours after they had started the schooner also 
got under way, as all were anxious to see what would take 
place, and Mr. Beveridge had told Kanaris that he would go 
within a short distance of the Turkish fleet and burn a blue 
light, so that the boats on leaving the fire-ships could row off 
to him and be taken back to Psara. 

It was the last day of the Ramazan, and a number of the 
principal officers of the Turkish fleet had been invited by the 
Capitan Pasha to dine with him on board his flag-ship to 
celebrate the feast of Bairam. The night was a dark one, but 
the whole of the Turkish vessels were illuminated in honour 
of the festival, and their outlines were clearly visible. The 
Miserico?'dia had entered the northern passage an hour after 
nightfall; the two Greek ships being, when last seen, about 
three miles ahead. The schooner lay-to a couple of miles 
distant from the anchorage. They had scarcely done so when 
they made out the sails of two vessels between them and the 
lines of light on the Turkish war-ships. 

“There they go,” Martyn said, “steering straight in. One 
of them is making straight for the Capitan Pasha’s own ship. 
No doubt that is Kanaris himself. The other is making for 
that seventy-four that carries the flag of the Reala Bey. You 
can tell them by the variegated lamps along their yards. The 
Turks evidently have not caught sight of them yet or they 
would open fire. On such a dark night as this I don’t suppose 
they will make them out till they are close alongside.” 

Kanaris, a man of the greatest calmness and courage, was 
himself at the helm of his craft. Running straight before 
the wind, he steered down upon the eighty-gun ship of the 
Capitan Pasha. Not until he was within a ship’s length was 
he observed, when a startled hail sounded from the deck of 


288 


IN GREEK WATERS 


the Turkish ship. Steering straight on he ran his bowsprit 
through one of her port-holes. The sailors instantly threw some 
grapnels to retain her in her position, and then jumped into 
their boat lying alongside. As soon as they did so Kanaris 
fired his pistol into the train. The fire flashed along the 
deck, there were a series of sharp explosions, and then the 
flames ran aloft, the riggings and sails being soaked with tur¬ 
pentine; and Kanaris had scarcely stepped into his boat 
before the ship was in a mass of flames. 

Lying to windward of the Turk the flames were blown on 
to her, and pouring in at the open port-holes at once set fire 
to a quantity of tents stowed on the lower deck, rushed up the 
hatches, and, mingling with the flames from the sails which 
had ignited the awning extending over the deck, ran up the 
rigging and spars of the man-of-war. The most terrible con¬ 
fusion instantly prevailed throughout the ship. The few boats 
alongside were sunk by the crowds who leapt into them. The 
crews of the ships lying round at once began to haul them 
farther away from the blazing vessel, and the boats that were 
lowered feared to approach it because of the falling spars and 
the flames that poured from the lower port-holes. 

In addition to her crew, the soldiers on board, and the 
Pasha’s guests, were a great number of prisoners who had been 
brought off from the island to be taken to Constantinople, 
and the shrieks and cries as they were caught by the flames, 
or sprang overboard to evade them, were terrible. Kara Ali 
himself sprang from the ship into a boat that approached near 
enough for the purpose of saving him; but before it*could 
put off a blazing spar fell on it, and the Capitan Pasha was so 
severely wounded that he died shortly after being carried on 
shore. 

His loss was a severe one for the Turks, for he was their 
most skilful naval officer. A few of those who leapt over¬ 
board were picked up by boats, or swam to the other ships; 
but with these exceptions the whole of those on board the 
vessel perished. The other fire-ship had been less calmly 


FIRE-SHIPS 


289 


and skilfully managed. In his haste and excitement the com¬ 
mander, after running her alongside the ship of the Reala 
Bey, fired the train and made off without attaching her to it, 
consequently the fire-ship drifted away without the flames 
communicating to the Turk, and burned out harmlessly. 

As soon as it was seen that Kanaris had succeeded, a blue 
light was burned on board the schooner, and in twenty min¬ 
utes the two boats rowed alongside. Not a shot had been fired 
at either, the Turks being too much occupied with the danger 
of fire to pay any attention to them. Kanaris was heartily 
congratulated on his success when he reached the schooner, 
which at once set sail and was back at Psara in the morning, 
where the news of the destruction of the Turkish man-of-war 
was received with the wildest enthusiasm. 

The Turkish vessels, leaving a strong garrison on the island, 
sailed north a few days later. They were pursued by the 
Greek fleet, which, however, did not venture to interfere with 
them, although they stopped at two ports on the way, and 
finally anchored under the guns of the forts of the Darda¬ 
nelles. The Misericordia took no part in harassing the 
Turkish fleet. Martyn had asked Mr. Beveridge’s opinion 
upon the subject, he himself being in favour of doing so. 

“ I think we could give the Greeks a lesson or two in this 
sort of thing, sir, and show them what can be done, even 
against a fleet, by a craft that means business.” 

“I am sure you could do all that, Martyn, but I do not 
think we should be justified in running the slightest risk of 
loss of life among the men merely for that purpose. We could 
do no more than the Greeks do unless we were willing to 
expose ourselves more. You could not hope either to capture 
or sink one of the Turkish ships in the face of their whole 
fleet. I know you would give them a great deal of trouble, 
but more than that you could not do. When the Greeks show 
themselves willing to fight we will fight by their side, but not 
before.” 

They were indeed glad that they so decided, for on the 


290 


IN GREEK WATERS 


evening before the Greeks set sail a boat arrived at Psara with 
six fugitives from Chios. They reported that the destruction 
of the Capitan Pasha’s ship with all on board had brought 
fresh misfortunes upon the Christians, for that the Mussulmans, 
infuriated by the details of the disaster, had fallen upon the 
Christians all over the island, even in the villages where 
hitherto there had been no trouble. 

The second massacre was indeed far more fatal than the 
first, the women and children being, as before, spared as slaves, 
many thousands being carried away. Small craft from Psara 
hovered round the island and succeeded in taking off num¬ 
bers of fugitives, while the schooner returned to her cruising 
grounds between the island and the mainland, or up the Gulf 
of Smyrna, where she captured and burnt large numbers of small 
craft laden with slaves. They had to make four trips to the 
islands to clear her crowded decks of the hapless Chiots. 

The news of the massacres of Chios, which, unlike those 
committed by themselves, the Greeks spread sedulously over 
Europe, excited deep and general horror and indignation. 
The numbers of those killed or sold into slavery were never 
known. The estimates varied considerably, some putting 
them down at twenty thousand while others maintained that 
those figures could be doubled without .exaggeration. It is 
probable, however, that they really exceeded thirty thousand. 

The details of the terrible massacres, which they learnt from 
the women they rescued, aroused among the officers and crew 
of the Misericordia a far deeper feeling of enthusiasm for the 
cause of Greece than they had hitherto felt. Since they came 
out their interest in the cause had been steadily waning. 
The tales of wholesale and brutal massacre, the constant vio¬ 
lation of the terms of surrender, the cowardice of the Greeks 
in action and their eagerness for plunder, the incessant dis¬ 
putes between the various parties, and the absence of any 
general attempt to concert measures for defence, had com¬ 
pletely damped their sympathy for them: but the sight of 
these hundreds of women and children widowed and orphaned, 


FIRE-SHIPS 


291 


and torn away from their native land and sold into slavery, 
set their blood boiling with indignation. The two Greeks 
took care to translate the narratives of the weeping women to 
the sailors, and these excited among them a passionate desire 
to punish the authors of these outrages; and had any of the 
craft they overhauled made an active resistance little mercy 
would have been shown to the Turks. As it was they were 
bundled headlong into their boats with many a hearty kick 
and cuff from the sailors, and the destruction of their vessels 
was effected with the alacrity and satisfaction of men per¬ 
forming an act of righteous retribution. 

“The poor creatures seemed terribly cast down,” Martyn 
said one day at dinner as they sailed with the last batch of 
Chiots for Corfu. They had transported the three previous 
cargoes to the Ionian Islands, as the former ones had been 
most unwillingly received in the Greek ports, the authorities 
saying that they had no means of affording subsistence to the 
fugitives who were daily arriving. In the Ionian Islands 
committees had been formed, and these distributed money sent 
out from England for their support, while rations were issued 
to them by the British authorities of the islands. 

“One can’t wonder at that,” Miller said. “Still, I must 
say that the women even at first don’t seem as delighted as 
one would expect at getting out of the hands of the Turks.” 

“ I am not so very sure, Miller, that they are delighted at 
all,” Macfarlane said quietly. “You think you are doing them 
the greatest service possible, but in my opinion it is more than 
doubtful whether they see it in the same light.” 

“ What! not thankful at being rescued from being sold as 
slaves to the Turks? ” 

“That sounds very terrible, and no doubt it would not be a 
pleasant lot for you, seeing that they would set you to work, 
and your life would be worse than a dog’s. But you have got 
to put yourself in the position of these unfortunate women and 
girls, and then you would see that you might think differently 
about it. To begin with, till now there has been no Animosity 


292 


IN GREEK WATERS 


between them and the Turks. It is admitted that the Turks 
have been gentle masters to Chios, and the people have been 
happy, contented, and prosperous. Their misfortunes have 
been brought upon them, not by the Turks, but by the Greeks, 
who came to the island contrary to their entreaties, plundered 
and ill used them, and then left them to the vengeance of the 
Turks. So if they have any preference for either, it will cer¬ 
tainly not be for the Greeks. 

“As to their being sold as slaves, I do not suppose they 
view it at all in the same way we do. They are not going to 
be sold to work in the fields, or anything of that sort, and the 
Turks treat their domestic slaves kindly. To one of these 
Chiot girls there is nothing very terrible in being a slave in 
the household of a rich Turk. You know that the Georgian 
and Circassian girls look forward to being sold to the Turks. 
They know that the life at Constantinople is vastly easier and 
more luxurious than that at home. I do not say for a moment 
that these women would not prefer a life of ease among their 
own people and friends. But what is the life before them 
now?—to have to work for their own living in the fields, or to 
go as servants among Greek and Italian families. A dark and 
uncertain future. I tell you, man, we think we are doing them 
a mighty service, but I doubt whether there is one of them 
that thinks so. The Chiots are celebrated for their docility 
and intelligence, and these women and children would fetclr 
high prices in the market, and be purchased by wealthy Turks, 
and their lot would be an enviable one in comparison to that 
which awaits most of them.VjA^ 

“The word slavery is hateful to us, but it is not so many 
years since we were sending people out in hundreds to work as 
slaves in the plantations of Virginia. The word slavery in the 
East has not the same terror as it has with us, and I doubt if 
the feelings of a Chiot peasant girl on her way to be sold are 
not a good deal like those of a girl who goes up from a Scotch 
or English village to Edinburgh or London, to go into service 
in a grand family. She thinks she is going to better herself, 


FIRE-SHIPS 


293 


to have fine clothes, and to live among fine people; and, as it 
turns out, maybe she is better off than she was before, maybe 
she is worse.” 

“You are a most disagreeable man, Macfarlane,” Martyn 
said after a pause. “ Here have we been thinking that we 
have been doing a good action, and you put us altogether out 
of conceit with ourselves.” 

“We have been doing a good action,” the doctor said. 
“We have been acting according to our lights. To us it is 
an abominable thing that a Greek woman or child should be 
sold as a slave to the heathen Turk. I am only pointing out 
to you that from their point of view there is nothing so ter¬ 
rible in their lot, and that we have no reason to expect any 
very lively gratitude from them; and that, looking at the 
matter only from a material point of view, they are not likely 
to be benefited by the change. I know that, if I were a Greek 
woman, I would rather be a slave in the family of a rich Turk 
than working as a drudge, say, in the family of a Maltese 
shopkeeper, though, if I were a Scotch girl, I should cer¬ 
tainly choose the other way.” 

They all sat silent for a minute or two. The idea was a 
wholly new one to them, and they could not deny that, ac¬ 
cording to the point of view of these Chiot captives, it was 
a reasonable one. Mr. Beveridge was the first to speak. 

“What you say has certainly given me a shock, doctor, but 
I cannot deny that there is some truth in it. Still, you 
know there is something beyond mere material advantages.” 

“I do not deny it, sir, and, as I say, we, as Britons and 
Christians, feel that we are doing a good work. Still, we 
can hardly be surprised that these Chiots naturally view it 
differently. Their Christianity is, like that of all Eastern 
Christians, of a very debased form; and living so long among 
the Turks, they have no very great horror of Mohammedan¬ 
ism. You know, on the mainland, tens of thousands of the 
Albanians have become Mohammedans. We think that we 
are justified in inflicting what one cannot but see is, from 


294 


IN GREEK WATERS 


the material point of view, a distinct injury to these people, 
because, as Christians, we feel it is for their moral advan¬ 
tage; but then, that is just the same feeling that caused the 
Spaniards to exterminate the natives of the West Indian 
Islands who declined to become Christians.” 

“Oh, I say, doctor, that is too strong altogether,” Miller 
exclaimed indignantly. 

“Well, prove it by argument,” the doctor replied calmly. 
“ I am not saying that from our point of view we are not more 
than justified. I am simply explaining why these Chiots do 
not feel any extraordinary gratitude to us. We are benefit¬ 
ing them, if they did but know it. We are saving them, body 
and soul; but that is not the light in which they see it.” 

“You are right, doctor,” Mr. Beveridge said. “And now 
you put it before us, I am really not surprised that these poor 
creatures do not feel any very lively gratitude. They are fond 
of ease and comfort, and have been accustomed to it, and to 
them the utter uncertainty of their life among strangers is not 
unreasonably more terrible than the prospects of an easy life 
as a favoured slave in a Turkish household. It is sad that 
it should be so; but it is human nature. Still, the considera¬ 
tion must not weigh with us in carrying out what we know to 
be a good work. We have saved in all more than three thou¬ 
sand souls from Turkish slavery, and can only trust that in the 
long run most of them will recognize the inestimable service 
we have rendered them.” 


RESCUING THE GARRISON OF ATHENS 


295 


CHAPTER XVII 

RESCUING THE GARRISON OF ATHENS 

T TELL you what it is, Mr. Beveridge,” the governor said 
1 when the latter went up to call as usual upon his. arrival at 
Corfu, “ I quite begin to dread the appearance of that smart 
schooner of yours; during the last five weeks you have added 
a thousand mouths to my anxieties. What we are to do with 
all these poor creatures I have not the slightest idea. We 
can’t go on feeding them for ever; and what with the volun¬ 
tary fugitives and those brought over to us, there are at pres¬ 
ent some forty or fifty thousand strangers in the islands, and 
of these something like half are absolutely dependent on us 
for the means of living.” 

“It is a very difficult problem,” Mr. Beveridge said. “Of 
course, when the war is over the great proportion of them will 
return to their homes in Greece; but the fugitives from the 
Turkish islands and mainland are in a different position. 
Doubtless, when peace is made, there will be some arrange¬ 
ment by which those families which have men among them can 
also return to their homes without being molested; but those 
consisting only of women and children could not do so. Some 
of the women and girls can find employment in Greek fami¬ 
lies, and I suppose the rest will finally become absorbed as 
servants in the towns on the Adriatic.” 

“ I see nothing else for it, Mr. Beveridge; unless you choose 
to continue your good work, and transport them in batches 
across the Atlantic. I believe there is a great dearth of women 
in Canada and the United States.” 

“You will have to set up schools and teach them English 
first, sir,” Mr. Beveridge laughed, “or they would not be wel¬ 
comed there. When they can all speak our language I will 
think over your suggestion.” 

“ Do you think that Greece ever will be free, Mr. Bever¬ 
idge?” 


296 


IN GREEK WATERS 


“ I think so. Certainly I think so. These terrible mas¬ 
sacres on both sides seem to render it absolutely impossible 
that they should return to their former relations. The Turks 
have not yet made their great effort, and I believe that when 
they do they will reconquer Greece. But I do not think they 
will hold it. The hatred between the races is now so bitter 
that they can never live together in peace; and I believe that 
the Greeks will continue their resistance so long that Europe 
at last will come to their assistance, and insist upon a frontier 
line being drawn. This terrible affair of Chios, dreadful as 
it is, will tend to that. The Christian feeling of Europe will 
become more and more excited until, if the governments hold 
back, the people will force them forward, and England and 
France at least will, if necessary, intervene by force. I be¬ 
lieve that they would do so now were it not for jealousy of 
Russia. It is Russia who fomented this revolution for her 
own purposes, and it is solely the fear that she will reap the 
whole benefit of their action that causes England and France 
to look on this struggle with folded arms.” 

“ I fancy you are right, and that that will be the end of 
it,” the governor said. “I need not say how earnestly I wish 
the time would come. I can assure you I have a very anxious 
time of it. What with providing for all these people, what 
with preventing breaches of neutrality by the Greeks, and 
what with the calumnies and complaints that the Greeks scatter 
broadcast against us, I can assure you that my task is not an 
enviable one.” 

“ I can quite imagine that. The Greeks make it very hard 
for their well-wishers to assist them; indeed, if they were bent 
upon bringing obloquy upon their name they could hardly 
act otherwise than they are doing. The one man they have 
hitherto produced who goes his way regardless of intrigue 
and faction, fighting bravely for the country, is Constantine 
Kanaris, who has destroyed two Turkish ships with his own 
hand. A hundred of such men as he is, and Greece would 
have achieved her independence without foreign assistance; 


RESCUING THE GARRISON OF ATHENS 


297 


and yet, even in his own ship, he is unable to maintain even 
a shadow of what we should consider discipline. He himself 
acknowledged as much to me at Psara.” 

“ I hear you took him off after he had burned the Turkish 
war-vessel.” 

“Yes; we were lying off the port and saw it. I am glad 
we were not nearer, for it was a terrible business. It is a 
barbarous war altogether.” 

“Then why do you mix yourself up in it, Mr. Beveridge? ” 

“ My mother was a Greek, and I have always lived in Greek 
thought rather than in English. I desire not only the inde¬ 
pendence but the regeneration of the Greeks. They have 
lost all the virtues of their ancestors save their intelligence; 
but once free they will, I hope and trust, recover their lost 
virtues and become, if not a great people—which they can 
hardly do, their numbers being comparatively so few—at least 
a worthy one.” 

“ I hope they may. They certainly have enthusiastic 
friends. Only a week or two since, a young fellow named 
Hastings, a lieutenant of our navy, came out. He has a fort¬ 
une of some seven or eight thousand pounds, which he in¬ 
tends to devote to buying and fitting out a ship for their 
service. There are scores of English and French officers 
kicking their heels at Corinth, vainly asking for employment. 
And I hear they are organizing a corps, composed entirely of 
foreign officers, who will fight as private soldiers without pay, 
simply for the purpose of endeavouring to shame the Greeks 
into a feeling of patriotism. 

“Where are you thinking of sailing now? If you have no 
fixed plans, I should advise you to go round to Athens. They 
say the Turkish garrison is at the last extremity. I have had 
a message from the consulate there, asking me to send a 
British ship of war round to insist upon the conditions of 
surrender being observed; but unfortunately the insane rage 
for retrenchment at home has so diminished the strength of our 
fleet that we haven’t a single ship in these waters at a time 


IN T GREEK WATERS 


298 


like this. I hear that the French consul has also sent urgently 
asking for ships of war. At any rate, your influence might do 
something.” 

“I fear not,” Mr. Beveridge said gravely. “However, my 
men and guns might have some weight, and at any rate I will 
go round at once and do my best. If possible, I am even more 
anxious to save Turks from massacre by Greeks, than Greeks 
from massacre by Turks.” 

“I can understand that,” the governor said cordially. 
“Well, I wish you every good fortune, Mr. Beveridge; but I 
say honestly that I do not wish to see your saucy schooner 
again unless she comes in with empty decks. Give them a 
turn at Malta next time, my dear sir, and I shall feel really 
grateful towards you.” 

Four days after leaving Corfu the schooner dropped anchor 
in the port of Athens. Learning from the first boat that put 
off to them that the capitulation of the Turks was to be signed 
on the following morning, Mr, Beveridge determined to land 
at once, in order that he might see as many of the leading 
officials as possible, and urge upon them the necessity of 
preventing any repetition of the breaches of faith which had 
brought such disgrace to the Greek name. 

“I shall take Zaimes with me,” he said to Martyn, “and 
should I see any signs of an intention upon the part of the 
populace to commence a massacre of the Turks I will send 
him off instantly. In that case, Captain Martyn, you will at 
once land the whole of the crew fully armed, with the excep¬ 
tion, say, of five men, and march them to the British consul¬ 
ate in Athens. You know where it is. Take a Greek flag 
with you, for two reasons; in the first place, if you were to 
go without it the Greeks would spread the report that the crew 
of an English ship of war had landed; and in the second 
place, it may quieten and appease the mob if they see that 
we are in the service of Greece.” 

“Very well, sir, I will carry out your instructions. I don’t 
think that rascally mob will venture to interfere with us.” 


RESCUING THE GARRISON OF ATHENS 


299 


“ I hope not, Martyn; but at any rate we must risk that. 
Any other message I may have to send off to you I shall send 
by an ordinary messenger; but if you are wanted, I shall trust 
no one but Zaimes.” 

Late in the evening a Greek came off with a letter. All 
would, Mr. Beveridge hoped, be well. The Turks had agreed 
to surrender their arms, and the Greeks had bound themselves 
to convey them to Asia Minor in neutral ships. By the terms 
of capitulation the Turks were to be allowed to retain one-half 
of their money and jewels, and one-half of their movable 
property. 

“I have every hope that the treaty will be respected,” Mr. 
Beveridge wrote. “ I am happy to say that the Bishop of 
Athens, who is a man of high character, and President of the 
Areopagus, has insisted upon all the civil and military authori¬ 
ties taking a most solemn oath to observe strictly the terms 
of capitulation, and so far to redeem the good faith of the 
nation, which has been so deeply stained by the violation of 
so many previous treaties.” 

The next morning the Mussulmans marched out from the 
Acropolis. Out of the 1150 remaining only 180 were men 
capable of bearing arms, so stoutly and obstinately had they 
defended the place, yielding only when the last drop of water 
in the cisterns was exhausted. They were housed in some 
extensive buildings in the town. Three days passed quietly. 
Two ephors, who had been ordered by the Greek government 
to hasten the embarkation of the Turks, took no steps what¬ 
ever to do so. On the morning of the fourth day, Horace, 
who had been twice on shore to see his father, saw a boat 
rowing off to the ship. He turned a glass upon it and ex¬ 
claimed : 

“ There is Zaimes on board that boat, Captain Martyn. I 
am sure my father would not ad him on board unless there 
is trouble in the town ” 

Martyn did n<^ at to arrive, but instantly 

mustered ar ’ i e boats were in the water 


IN GREEK WATERS 


300 

by the time Zaimes arrived alongside. He handed a note to 
Martyn; it contained only the words: 

“Land instantly, they are murdering the Turks.” 

With a hearty execration upon the Greeks, Martyn ordered 
the men to take their places in the boats, and gave his final 
orders to Tarleton, who was to remain in charge. 

“Get all the guns loaded with ball, Mr. Tarleton. For 
aught I know we may have to fight our way down to the beach. 
Fire the first shot over their heads. If that does not frighten 
them, plump the others into them.” 

The three boats pushed off, the doctor taking his place by 
the side of Horace, who was in command of one of them. 

“Have you got your instruments, doctor?” Horace asked 
smiling. 

“I have got these instruments,” Macfarlane said, tapping 
the butts of a heavy pair of pistols. “Just for once I am 
going as a combatant. I thought there was a limit to every¬ 
thing, but there really doesn’t seem to be any limit to the 
faithlessness of the Greeks. I should like very much to help 
to give them a little lesson as to the sanctity of an oath.” 

The sailors marched in a compact body from the port to 
the town. They had been told the errand upon which they 
had come, and from the pace at which they marched, and the 
expression of angry determination on their faces, it was evi¬ 
dent that they entered thoroughly into the business. They 
were met at the entrance to the town by Mr. Beveridge. 

“It is of no use going to the British consulate,” he said; 
“there are no English officials there, the place is simply in 
charge of a Greek, who dare not, if he would, move in the 
matter. The Turks are taking refuge in the French, Austrian, 
and Dutch consulates. It is more than doubtful whether the 
flags will be respected. You had better place say eight men 
at each, with orders to defend the places till the last if the 
mob attacks them; while with the rest of the men you can 
endeavour to escort the fugitive Turks to the consulates. 
Don’t let the men use their arms till the last extremity, 
Martyn.” 


RESCUING THE GARRISON OF ATHENS 


301 


“Very well, sir. Where will you be? ” 

“ I will go to the French consulate and aid them there in 
pacifying the mob. My son had better go to one of the 
others. Harangue them from the windows, Horace; point 
out to them that they are disgracing Greece in the eyes of all 
Europe, and implore them not to bring Austria on their backs 
by insulting her flag. At the same time see that all the lower 
shutters are barred, and be ready to sally out with your men 
to bring in any fugitives who may approach.” 

“ Mr. Miller, do you take eight men to the Dutch consul¬ 
ate,” Martyn said, “and follow the instructions Mr. Bever¬ 
idge has given to his son.” 

“Zaimes shall go with you, Mr. Miller.” 

“Thank you, Mr. Beveridge; if he will do the haranguing 
I will look after the fighting if there is any to be done.” 

The three parties, each of eight men, at once started for 
the consulates. Martyn waited till they had gone, and then 
turned to the remainder. “ Boatswain, you take ten men and 
go one way, I will go another way with the rest. You heard 
Mr. Beveridge’s instructions, that the men were not to use 
their arms unless absolutely attacked. At the same time, if 
you come upon any of the Greeks engaged in murdering 
women and children you will remember there are no orders 
against your using your hands, and that there are windows as 
well as doors by which a Greek can be made to leave a house.” 

“Ay, ay, sir! ” Tom Burdett replied with a grin; “we will 
be as gentle with them as possible.” 

Martyn had provided several small Greek flags which had 
been fastened to boat-hooks, and each party, taking one of' 
these, proceeded on its way. They had gone but a little dis¬ 
tance when shrieks and cries were heard, and, bursting into 
the houses from which they proceeded, the sailors came upon 
Greeks engaged in the diabolical work of torturing women 
and children. With a cheer they fell upon them, striking 
right and left with their fists, and levelling the astonished 
Greeks to the ground. Then the Turks were placed safely in 


302 


IN GREEK WATERS 


their midst, and with a few hearty kicks at the prostrate ruf¬ 
fians they marched out. The scene was repeated again and 
again; the punishment inflicted upon the Greeks being more 
and more severe each time. 

When some twenty fugitives had been collected they were 
marched through a yelling rabble to one or other of the con¬ 
sulates, to which a large number of fugitives had made their 
way when the massacre began. Several times the leaders of 
both bands had to call upon their men to present arms, the 
mob falling back and flying the moment they did so. After 
a time the two bands joined, Martyn considering it imprudent 
to venture out among the enraged populace in smaller force. 
The aspect of the crowd became more and more threatening, 
but it still confined itself to execrations and curses, being 
overawed by the determined attitude of the men with their 
muskets, cutlasses, and pistols, and with the apparent fact that 
the sailors were only prevented from using their arms by the 
exertions of the two officers, for the doctor kept close by 
Martyn’s side. At two o’clock the boom of a cannon was 
heard from the port; again and again it sounded at regular 
intervals. 

“That is a ship of war saluting,” Martyn said. 

The crowd fell away rapidly, many of them hurrying down 
to the port, and Martyn, taking advantage of it, was able to 
bring in a good many more fugitives to the consulates, the 
sailors from within rushing out when they approached, and 
clearing the way through the crowd with the vigorous use of 
their elbows and sometimes of their fists. 

“We shall have help up soon,” Mr. Beveridge said, the first 
time Martyn brought in a party of fugitives after the guns 
fired. 

An hour later a strong party of French sailors and marines 
with loaded muskets and fixed bayonets marched up to the 
French consulate from two French vessels, a corvette and a 
schooner, which had come from Syra in response to the con¬ 
sul’s earnest appeals for assistance. They placed in their 


RESCUING THE GARRISON OF ATHENS 


303 


‘ midst three hundred and twenty-five Turkish fugitives who 
had found refuge there, escorted them down to the port, and 
placed them on board their ships. On the way they were sur¬ 
rounded by a menacing crowd of Greek soldiers and by a great 
mob, yelling, shouting, and brandishing their arms; but their 
valour went no further, and the fugitives were taken off in 
| safety. The sailors of the Misericordia were now divided 
between the Austrian and Dutch consulates, and their appear¬ 
ance at the windows with loaded muskets intimidated the mob 
from making an attack. During the night the bishop and 
some of the better class exerted themselves to the utmost in 
calming the passions of the mob; and they themselves in the 
morning accompanied the crew of the Misericordia , who, 
guarding the fugitives, were allowed to proceed down to the 
port and embark on board the schooner without molestation 
from the people. Some seven hundred and fifty persons were 
saved by the French and the crew of the schooner. Four 
hundred were massacred in cold blood by the Greeks. 

The French vessels had sailed away during the night, and 
the question arose what was to be done with the rescued 
Turks. Of these there were some forty soldiers, ten or twelve 
Turks of superior rank, military and civil officials; the rest 
were women and children. Two or three of the Turks spoke 
Italian, and four or five of them Greek. Mr. Beveridge held 
a consultation with these, and it was finally agreed that they 
should be landed at the Isle of Tenedos close to the mouth of 
the Dardanelles, as from thence they would have no difficulty 
in making their way to Constantinople. 

“If there are no ships of war in the port we will hoist the 
white flag and sail straight in; but if there are, we must land 
you in the boats somewhere on the island. We have been in 
action with your ships of war and would at once be recog¬ 
nized, and the white flag would not be respected.” 

“We owe you our lives, sir, and the lives of all these 
women and children,” a bimbashi or major of the Turkish 
garrison, a fine soldierly-looking man, said earnestly; “for 



304 


IN GREEK WATERS 


had it not been for you and your brave crew even the flags of 
the consulates would not have sufficed to protect us. Assuredly 
my countrymen would never fire at you when engaged in such 
a work of mercy.” 

“They might not in cold blood,” Mr. Beveridge said; “but 
we have just been saving Chiot prisoners as cruelly treated, 
and for every Turk who has been massacred in Athens, well- 
nigh a hundred Chiots have been murdered. I do not defend 
them for breaking their pledged faith to you, but one cannot 
be surprised at their savage thirst for vengeance.” 

Martyn had got up the anchor and set sail on the schooner 
directly the fugitives were on board, and as soon as he learned 
that Tenedos was their destination her course was laid north. 
Then came the work, to which they were now becoming 
accustomed, of stowing away the unfortunate passengers. The 
screened partition was allotted to the women and children of 
the officers and officials, most of whose husbands had fallen 
during the siege, and the rest of the women and children 
were stowed down on the main-deck, while the male passen¬ 
gers stayed on deck, where the women remained for the most 
part during the day. Those who had been rescued from the 
hands of the Greeks had been plundered of everything; but 
those who had at the first alarm fled to the consulates had 
carried with them jewels and money. The women of the 
upper class were all closely veiled, but the rest made but little 
attempt to conceal their faces, and all evinced the deepest 
gratitude to the crew of the schooner; murmuring their thanks 
whenever an officer or sailor passed near them, and trying to 
seize their hands and press them to their foreheads. 

* The fugitives of the upper class, both men and women, 
were more restrained, but there was no mistaking the expres¬ 
sion with which their eyes followed their protectors. Many 
of the women and children were worn out with the sufferings 
they had sustained during the last days of the siege, and seme 
of the soldiers were so weak as to be scarce able to stand. 
The doctor attended to many of the children, while the Greeks 


RESCUING THE GARRISO^ OF ATHENS 305 

* « 

and the ship’s cook were kept bus^ all day in preparing 
nourishing soups. The next day they were off Tenedos. 
No Turkish ship of war was lying near the town. A boat was 
lowered, and Miller, accompanied by Horace as interpreter, 
took his place in her with one of the Turkish officers. A white 
flag was hoisted in her stern, and six men rowed her ashore. 

Their movements had been watched, and a body of Turkish 
soldiers were drawn up at the landing-place with several 
officials. The Turkish officer mounted the' stegs and* explained 
to the governor of the island, who was among those at the 
landing-stage, the purpose for which the Misericordia had 
arrived at the port. There was a rapid conversation as the 
officer, frequently interrupted by exclamations of indigna¬ 
tion, and questions from the Turks, narrated what had taken 
place. Then the governor and his officers ran forward, seized 
Miller and Horace by the hand, patted them on the shoulder 
with the liveliest demonstrations of gratitude and friendship. 
The Turk who had come ashore with them translated to Hor¬ 
ace, in Greek, the governor’s earnest request that the owner 
of the ship and his officers would come ashore to visit him. 

“The governor says that he himself would at once come off 
to visit the ship and return his thanks, but that, as she is flying 
the Greek flag, he cannot do so, much as he desires it; but 
that if the flag were lowered, and a white flag substituted, he 
would come off instantly. He has heard of the fight between 
the Greek ship with an English crew and the boats of the 
Turkish fleet, and of the many craft she has taken and de¬ 
stroyed, always sparing the crews and sending them ashore, 
and he has great esteem for so brave an enemy; now he cannot 
view them but as friends after their noble rescue of so many 
of his countrymen and women and children.” 

Horace in reply said that he would give the governor’s 
message to his father, and that the fugitives should at once be 
landed. 

“‘bo you think that he really meant that he would come on 
board if we hoisted the white flag, Horace? ” 


306 


IN GREEK WATERS 


“ I think so, father. He and the officers with him certainly 
seemed thoroughly in earnest. What do you think, Martyn? 
There can be no objection to our lowering the Greek flag, I 
should think, while acting as a neutral.” 

“I should think not,” Martyn said, “and I should not care 
a snap of the fingers if there was. The Greek flag is all well 
enough, Mr. Beveridge, when we see an armed Turk of supe¬ 
rior size in sight, but at other times I don’t feel proud of it.” 

“We will lower it down then, Martyn.” 

The Greek flag was lowered from the peak and a white one 
run up. Then the work of debarkation commenced, the Turks 
insisting upon shaking hands with Mr. Beveridge and the 
officers, thanking them in the most fervent way, and calling 
down the blessing of Allah upon them; while the women, 
many of them weeping, threw themselves on their knees and 
poured out their thanks, some of them holding up their infants 
to gaze on the faces of those to whom they owed their lives. 
The sailors came in for their share of thanks, and were quite 
embarrassed by the warmth with which they were greeted. Just 
as the first batch left the ship, a large boat flying the Turkish 
flag was seen putting out from the shore, and in a few minutes 
the governor with seven or eight civil and military officials 
came on board. 

They brought with them a merchant who spoke English to 
act as interpreter. Martyn drew up the whole of the crew 
who were not engaged in boat service as a guard of honour to 
receive them, while he, with Mr. Beveridge, met the governor 
as he mounted the gangway. The governor, who was a tall 
and dignified Turk, expressed to them his warmest thanks in 
the name of the Sultan for the rescue of so many of his sub¬ 
jects from the fury of the populace of Athens. Mr. Beveridge, 
through the interpreter, explained to the pasha that, although 
an Englishman he had Greek blood in his veins, and had 
therefore joined them in their attempt to achieve indepen¬ 
dence, and was prepared to fight on their side but that, as an 
Englishman, he revolted against the barbarity with which the 



THE GOVERNOR COMES ON BOARD 
























RESCUING THE GARRISON OF ATHENS 


307 


war was carried on by both combatants; that his vessel was 
named the Misericordia , and that while he had saved a great 
number of Christian fugitives on the one side, he was equally 
ready and pleased at being able to render the same service to 
Mussulman fugitives on the other side. 

“Your errand is a noble and merciful one,” the Turk said, 
“ and must have the approval of Allah as well as of the God 
of the Christians. We have heard of your terrible vessel, how 
she destroyed a frigate off Cyprus, beat off the boats of our 
fleet at Chios, and played havoc among the shipping from 
Smyrna. We knew her when we saw her, for we had heard of 
her white sails and tall masts; but we had heard too that no 
prisoner was injured by you. I never thought to set foot on 
the deck of the ship that had become the dread of the traders 
of Smyrna and other ports, but I am glad to do so since those 
who sail her, although our enemies in battle, have proved 
themselves indeed our friends in the time of distress.” 

When this had been translated, Mr. Beveridge invited the 
governor and his companions into the cabin, where coffee and 
chibouks were served; then they were conducted round the 
ship. The governor conversed for some little time with two 
or three of the principal Turks from Athens, and learned the 
full details of the surrender and the subsequent events as he 
watched the debarkation of the fugitives; and then, after 
obtaining a promise from Mr. Beveridge that he and his offi¬ 
cers would come on shore at sunset to dine with him, he 
entered his boat and was rowed back. 

At sunset Mr. Beveridge and all the officers, with the excep¬ 
tion of Tarleton, who remained in charge of the ship, went 
ashore. They were received at the landing-place by a guard 
of honour of Turkish soldiers in charge of one of the princi¬ 
pal officers of the governor, and were conducted to his house 
through a crowd of people cheering and shouting. 

The governor received them at his door. The dinner was 
served in Turkish fashion, all sitting on cushions round a 
table raised about a foot from the floor. A band of music 


308 


IN GREEK WATERS 


played without, and a great number of dishes, of most of 
which Horace could only guess at the ingredients, were served; 
and after the meal, which was of great length, was concluded, 
slaves brought round ewers of water, in which all dipped their 
fingers, wiping them on embroidered towels. A variety of 
sweetmeats were then handed round, followed by coffee. 
Three or four interpreters had stood behind the guests, who 
were all placed between Turks, and thus conversation was 
rendered possible. At ten o’clock they took their leave with 
many cordial expressions on both sides, and were again 
escorted by a party of soldiers to their boats. 

“There is no gainsaying,” Macfarlane said as they rowed 
off, “ that there seems to be a good deal livelier feeling of 
gratitude among the Turks than there is among the Greeks. 
We have come all the way out from England to fight for the 
Greeks; we have sunk a Turkish ship, beaten off their boats 
with very heavy loss, and rescued nearly three thousand 
women and children from their hands, and yet there isn’t a 
Greek official who has said as much as thank you. They seem 
to consider that it is quite sufficient reward for us to have 
"been of service to so great a people as they are. Upon the 
other hand, here are these Turks, though we have done them 
a great deal of damage, putting aside all enmity and treating 
us like gentlemen because we have saved a ship-load of their 
people. He was a very fine old heathen that governor.” 

“The Turks, too, were a deal more grateful than any of 
the Greeks have been, except that batch from Cyprus,” Hor¬ 
ace said. 

“They were in better heart for being thankful, Horace,” 
Mr. Beveridge replied. “We have taken them back to their 
native land, and they will soon rejoin their friends and fami¬ 
lies; whereas the Chiots were going into exile and had lost 
everything that was dear to them, and the lot before them 
was, as the doctor pointed out, little if anything better than 
that we had saved them from. Still, I will do them the justice 
to say that the Turks were really grateful to us; and though 


RESCUING THE GARRISON OF ATHENS 


309 


we are not working for the purpose of obtaining gratitude, it 
is pleasant to see that people do feel that one has done some¬ 
thing for them.” 

“I suppose you won’t get up sail until morning, Martyn? ” 
Mr. Beveridge said as they went down into the cabin. 

“Yes, sir, if you have no objections I shall get up the anchor 
as soon as we are on board. You see we are not many miles 
from the mouth of the Dardanelles, and with a good glass they 
could make out our colours from the mainland; and if word 
were sent to their admiral that a Greek craft is at anchor here, 
he might send two or three ships out to capture us. I don’t 
give the Turks credit for such enterprise, but it is just as well 
not to run any risk. What is to be our course next, Mr. Bev¬ 
eridge ? ” 

“There is likely to be a regular battle in a short time be¬ 
tween the Greek army and the Turks. Indeed the Greeks 
will have to fight if they really mean to gain their indepen¬ 
dence. Dramali Pasha has some twenty thousand men col¬ 
lected on the banks of the Spercheus. Of these they say eight 
thousand are cavalry drawn from the Mussulman clans of 
Macedonia and Thrace, and he may move forward any day to 
reconquer the Morea and relieve Nauplia. If he is suffered 
to do this there is virtually an end of the war. I have not a 
shadow of faith in any of the Greek leaders, or in the Areopa¬ 
gus, but I still do believe in the vast bulk of the people. The 
Morea consists almost wholly of hilly and broken country, just 
the ground where an armed peasantry, knowing every pass 
and place of advantage, ought to be able to render the passage 
of a regular army with their wagons and baggage well-nigh 
impossible. 

“ In such a country the Turkish cavalry would be of little 
use, and there are only the infantry to cope with. The 
artillery would probably have to be left behind altogether. If 
ever an effort is to be made by the Greeks it must be made 
now. I propose therefore, Martyn, to sail down to Nauplia 
and to land there. The Turks, of course, still command the 


310 


IN GREEK WATERS 


harbour with their guns, but the Greek vessels land supplies 
and ammunition for the besiegers, so there can be no difficulty 
about that. We have still a good many thousand muskets in 
the hold, and ammunition for them. I shall see what spirit 
prevails among the peasantry, shall issue arms to all who need 
them, and help with money if required. The peasantry will 
not want it, but the patriotism of their primates and captains 
may be a good deal strengthened by a little judicious expen¬ 
diture of money. The Morea is the key of the whole posi¬ 
tion, and the present will be the critical moment of the 
revolution. If the Turks succeed, Greece is at their feet; if 
the Turkish army Is defeated, Greece may conquer. Now, 
therefore, is the time for me to do my utmost to aid them.” 

“Very well, sir; then I will lay her course to-morrow morn¬ 
ing for the south-eastern point of Euboea.” 

On the voyage down Mr. Beveridge discussed with the 
others the course that he intended to take. He had quite 
determined himself to leave the coast and go into the inte¬ 
rior, where, if the Turkish army was to be checked, the 
decisive battle must be fought. It was decided that Horace 
and the two Greeks should accompany him. The question 
most at issue was whether he should take with him any por¬ 
tion of the crew of the schooner; he himself was somewhat 
averse to this. 

“ I need hardly say, Martyn, that I have no intention what¬ 
ever of mixing myself up in any fighting that may take place. 
I go simply to rouse the enthusiasm as much as possible of 
the peasantry, and to get the small local leaders to stir. If I 
can do nothing I shall simply come back to the schooner 
again. If the Greeks dispute the passage of the Turks I 
shall, if I can, take up my position where I can see what takes 
place, and if the Greeks are beaten, retire across the hills. 
What good then would it be for me to take any of the sailors 
with me? You may want them all on board, for it is possible, 
indeed it is probable, that the Turkish fleet will come round 
to Nauplia with supplies for the Turkish army when it arrives 
there.” , 


RESCUING THE GARRISON OF ATHENS 


311 


“Well, sir, I shouldn’t require the whole crew to get up sail 
and make off if I see them coming, and I do think that it 
would be very much better for you to have some men with 
you. In the first place, your having a guard of that sort would 
add to your importance in the eyes of the Greeks, and give 
more weight to your counsels. In the second place, if you are 
going to take arms and money on shore you will certainly 
require a guard for them, or run the risk of getting your throat 
cut. And lastly, if there should be a fight, and the Greeks get 
beaten, if you have fifteen or twenty men with you your chance 
of getting off safely would be very largely increased, for they 
could beat off any small party of horsemen that happened to 
overtake you. What do you think, Horace?” 

“ I certainly think so too. After what we have seen of the 
Greeks, father, I do think it would be better in every way to 
have a party of sailors with us. If it were known that you 
were going about the hills with a considerable sum of money 
you might be safe enough among the peasants, but I should 
say there were any number of these miserable primates and 
captains who would think nothing of cutting our throats to 
get it.” 

Mr. Beveridge gave way at once, and it was arranged that 
a party of fifteen men, under the command of Miller, should 
land from the schooner and accompany him. 

“Don’t you think, Mr. Beveridge,” Macfarlane said, “that 
it would be as well for you to take your medical attendant 
with you? ” 

Mr. Beveridge smiled. “I have scarcely ^regarded you 
hitherto, doctor, in the light of my medical attendant, but as 
the attendant of the ship’s company, and I don’t think that 
Horace or I, or any of the landing party, are likely to take 
any fever among the hills of the Morea.” 

“ I hope not, sir, but you see there may be some prelimi¬ 
nary skirmishes before the regular battle you expect will take 
place, and I don’t suppose the Greeks will have any surgeons 
accustomed to gunshot wounds or capable of amputations 


312 


IN GREEK WATERS 


among them, and therefore, you see, I might be of some 
service.” 

“In addition to which, doctor,” Martyn laughed, “you 
think you would like a ramble on shore a bit.” 

“Well, what do you think, Martyn?” Mr. Beveridge said; 
“ it is for you to decide. The doctor may be, as he says, 
useful on shore; but then again his services may be required 
on board.” 

“We are not likely to do any fighting, sir, and if he will 
mix up a gallon or two of jalap, and such other medicines as 
he thinks might be useful for ordinary ailments on board, I 
daresay Tarleton will see to their being administered as re¬ 
quired.” 

“Oh, yes, I will see to that,” Tarleton said. “Make them 
as nasty as you can, doctor, so that I sha’n’t have any unnec¬ 
essary applications for them.” 

And so it was settled that Dr. Macfarlane should form one 
of the landing party. 


CHAPTER XVIII 

A TURKISH DEFEAT 

r PHE town of Nauplia stood on a projecting point at the 
1 head of the gulf which was in old times known as the 
Gulf of Argc$, but was now more generally known as the 
Gulf of Nauplia, that town being the most important port in 
Greece, carrying on a large trade in sponges, silk, oil, wax, 
wines, and acorns. It was the seat of government of the 
Venetians at the time they were masters of the Morea, and 
had been very strongly fortified by them. The Acropolis, or 
citadel, stood on a craggy hill where the point on which the 
town stood joined the mainland. The Venetians had taken 
the greatest pains in fortifying this rock, which was well-nigh 



A TURKISH DEFEAT 


313 


impregnable, and was considered the strongest position in the 
Morea. 

The Turks had long been besieged here. Negotiations had 
at one time been carried on with a view to its surrender, and 
had the Greeks acted in good faith they could have gained 
possession of the place before Dramali advanced to its relief. 
Six weeks before, the Turks, having entirely consumed their 
provisions, signed the capitulation. The Turks had little 
faith in the Greeks observing its conditions, but were of 
opinion that it would be better to be massacred at once than to 
slowly die of hunger. By the terms of capitulation the Turks 
were to deliver up their arms and two-thirds of their movable 
property, while the Greeks were to allow them to hire neutral 
vessels to transport them to Asia- Minor; and bound them¬ 
selves to supply them with provisions until the vessels arrived 
to take them away. 

The Greek government at once sent some of its members to 
Nauplia to register the property of the Turks. These imme¬ 
diately pursued the usual course of endeavouring to enrich 
themselves by secretly purchasing the property of the Turks, 
and by selling them provisions. The Greek ministers took 
no steps to charter neutral vessels, professing that they were 
unable to raise money for the purpose, but really delaying to 
enable their secretaries at Nauplia to make larger gains by 
bargaining with the wealthy Turks there. The Turks having 
now got provisions enough to enable them to hold on, were 
in no great hurry to conclude the surrender, as they knew that 
Dramali was advancing. Such was the state of things when 
the schooner arrived in the Gulf of Argos, and landed the 
party on the opposite side of the gulf. 

They at once proceeded into the interior, stopping at every 
village. At each place they came to messengers were sent out 
to summon the peasantry of the neighbourhood to come in. 
When they had assembled Mr. Beveridge harangued them, 
pointing out that now or never was the time to win their 
independence; that if the Turkish invasion were rolled back 


314 


IN GREEK WATERS 


now they might hope that the enemy would see that such a 
country could not be conquered when the inhabitants were 
determined to be free, for that if they thoroughly established 
their hold of it, and occupied all the fortresses, there would 
be no chance of their ever again shaking off the yoke. He 
said that he himself, an Englishman and a stranger, had come 
to aid them as far as possible, and that all unprovided with 
arms, or lacking ammunition, would receive them on going 
down to the ship anchored in the bay. 

At each place, previous to addressing the assembly, he had 
distributed money among the local leaders and priests. These 
seconded his harangues, and numbers of the men went down 
to the coast and obtained guns and ammunition. 

While Mr. Beveridge was travelling over the country the 
army of Dramali was advancing unopposed. The troops which 
the central government had placed to defend the passes fled 
without firing a shot, and Dramali occupied Corinth without 
resistance. The Acropolis ■ there was impregnable, but the 
commander, a priest named Achilles Theodorides, in spite of 
his Christian name and the fact that the citadel was amply sup¬ 
plied with provisions, murdered the Turkish prisoners in his 
hands, and fled with the garrison as soon as Dramalbapproached 
the place. 

The ease with which the Turkish general had marched 
through Eastern Greece and possessed himself of Corinth, 
raised his confidence to the highest point. It had been 
arranged that the Turkish fleet should meet him at Nauplia, 
and he therefore determined to march with his whole army 
there, obtain possession of the stores brought by the fleet, 
relieve the town, and then proceed to the conquest of the 
Morea. Two of his officers alone disagreed with him. 
Yussuf Pasha and Ali Pasha, the latter of whom was a large 
land-owner of Argos, and both of whom knew the country well, 
proposed that Corinth should be made the head-quarters of 
the army, and great magazines be formed there; that the 
army should be divided into two divisions, one of which, 


A TURKISH DEFEAT 


315 


under Dramali, should march to Nauplia and then recover 
Tripolitza, while the other should march along the Gulf of 
Corinth to Patras, recovering possession of the fertile province 
of Achaia. Dramali, however, confident in his power to over¬ 
come any opposition that might be made, determined to carry 
out his own plan, and started with his own army for Nauplia. 

Owing to the fact that Dramali had met with no opposition, 
and had advanced with much greater rapidity than was ex¬ 
pected, the preparations for resistance were altogether incom¬ 
plete at the time he moved forward from Corinth, though the 
people were firmly determined to resist his advance from 
Nauplia. Accordingly, to the great disappointment of Mr. 
Beveridge, he moved without opposition through the narrow 
defile of Dervenaki, where a few hundred men could have 
successfully opposed the advance of an army, and arrived 
without firing a shot at Argos, almost within sight of Nauplia, 
sending forward Ali Pasha with five hundred cavalry to take 
the command at Nauplia. 

Had the Turkish fleet now arrived with supplies, as had 
been arranged, it is probable that Dramali would have over¬ 
run the Morea, and that the revolution in Greece would have 
been stamped out; but instead of doing this it passed round 
the Morea to Patras in order to take on board Mehemet, who 
had just been appointed Capitan Pasha. Dramali therefore 
found himself at Argos without provisions, as, relying upon 
obtaining supplies from the fleet, he had not encumbered 
himself with a baggage train. 

The members of the Greek government whose head-quar¬ 
ters had been at Argos, had fled precipitately at the approach 
of Dramali. Argos had been crowded with political leaders 
and military adventurers who had gathered there in hopes of 
sharing in the plunder of Nauplia. All these fled in such 
haste that the national archives and a large quantity of plate 
that had just been collected from the churches and monas¬ 
teries for the public service, were abandoned. A wild panic 
had seized the inhabitants, whose numbers had been vastly 


316 


IN GREEK WATERS 


increased by refugees from Smyrna, Chios, and other places, 
and thousands deserted their houses and property, and fled in 
frantic terror. As soon as they had left, the town was plun¬ 
dered by bands of Greek klephts, who seized the horses, 
mules, working oxen, and carts of the peasantry round and 
loaded them with the plunder collected in the city, and the 
Turks, when they entered Argos, found that it had already 
been sacked. 

While, however, the ministers, senators, and generals of 
Greece were flying in panic, the spirit of the people was ris¬ 
ing, and a body of volunteers took possession of the ruined 
castle where the ancient Acropolis of Argos had stood, and 
defended the position successfully against the first attack of 
the Turks. Of all the Greek leaders, Prince Demetrius Hyp- 
silantes alone showed courage and presence of mind. Hasten¬ 
ing through the country he addressed energetic harangues to 
the people, who responded enthusiastically to his impassioned 
words, and took up arms without waiting for the call of their 
nominal leaders. The work of the little English party now 
bore fruit, and the peasants, with arms in their hands, some 
without leaders, some commanded by their captains and pri¬ 
mates, flocked from all parts of the Morea towards the scene 
of action. 

Having seen the work well begun, Hypsilantes hastened 
back to Argos, and, accompanied by several young chiefs, 
threw himself with some eight hundred men into the ruined 
castle, raising the force there to a thousand men. The place 
was, however, badly supplied with provisions and water, and 
the Turks closely invested it. The object with which the first 
volunteers had occupied the place had been gained: the ad¬ 
vance of the Turks had been arrested, and time had been given 
to the people of the Morea to rise. Hypsilantes and the 
greater portion of the garrison accordingly withdrew during 
the night; but a small band held it for three days longer, 
cutting their way out when their last loaf was finished on the 
i st of August, having occupied it on the 24th of July. 


A TURKISH DEFEAT 


317 


By this time the Greeks had five thousand men assembled 
at Lerna, the port of Argos, where the cowardly leaders had 
embarked, and they held a very strong position where the 
ground rendered it impossible for the Turkish cavalry to act. 
Other large bodies of Greeks occupied all the mountains 
surrounding the plain of Argos. Had Dramali, when he first 
found that the fleet had gone past with the supplies, returned 
to Corinth, he could have done so without a shot being fired; 
but it was not until the 6th of August, after wasting a fort¬ 
night, that he prepared to move. He had brought with him 
from Corinth ten thousand men, of whom half were cavalry, 
and already much greater numbers of Greeks were gathered 
round him. Kolokotronis was nominally in command, but 
the villagers obeyed their local leaders, and there was no 
order or system among them. Had there been, they could 
have occupied strong positions on the various roads leading 
up to the hills, and compelled the surrender of the whole 
Turkish army. Instead of doing this, each of the local chiefs 
took up the position that seemed to him to be best. 

The advance guard of the Turkish army consisted of a 
thousand Albanians, trained and seasoned troops. These were 
allowed to go through without even a skirmish. A body of 
cavalry were then sent forward along the road by which they 
had come, and ordered to occupy the Dervenaki defile, which 
Dramali had left unguarded behind him. They found the 
Greeks intrenched there. The first Turkish division there¬ 
fore moved by another pass. Niketos, one of the bravest of 
the Greek commanders, with two thousand men barred the 
valley and fell on their left flank, while another body of 
Greeks, under Hypsilantes and Dikaios, attacked them on 
the right. The Turkish cavalry charged forward and tried to 
clear the valley, but a picked body of marksmen, on a low hill 
overlooking a ravine, shot them down and blocked the ravine 
with the bodies of the horses and their riders. 

The pressure from behind increased, and a body of well- 
mounted horsemen managed to dash through and reach Cor- 


318 


IN GREEK WATERS 


inth in safety. Behind them the slaughter was terrible. The 
Turks were shot down in numbers, and fled in every direction. 
Many were killed, but more succeeded in escaping, for the 
Greeks directed their whole attention to plundering the great 
baggage-trains, consisting of mules and camels laden with the 
valuables of the pashas and the rich spoil that had been gath¬ 
ered in their advance. The news of the destruction of the 
first division of his army astounded Dramali; but it was 
impossible for him to remain at Argos, and the following day 
he moved forward by another road up the steep hill known as 
Kleisura. Dikaios opposed them in front; Niketos and Hypsi- 
lantes fell on their left flank. 

As on the previous day, the baggage-train proved the salva¬ 
tion of the Turkish soldiers. The Greeks directed their entire 
attention to it; and while they were occupied in cutting it off, 
a brilliant charge by a chosen band of Turkish horsemen 
cleared the road in front, and Dramali, with the main body 
of his cavalry, was enabled to escape to Corinth. His mili¬ 
tary chest, and the whole of the Turkish baggage, fell into 
the hands of the Greeks. The troops under the immediate 
command of Kolokotronis took no part whatever in either 
day’s fighting, the whole of which was done by the two 
thousand men under the command of Niketos, under whom 
Dikaios and Hypsilantes acted. As Kolokotronis, however, 
was the nominal commander, the credit of the defeat of Dra¬ 
mali was generally ascribed to him. 

The Moriots returned to their native villages, enriched by 
the spoil they had gathered. The party from the schooner 
had been spectators of the fight. They had scarcely expected 
so good a result, for the disorder, the want of plan, the neglect 
of any attempt to seize and occupy the roads, and, above all, 
the utter incapacity of Kolokotronis,- seemed to render suc¬ 
cess almost hopeless; and, indeed, out of the fourteen thou¬ 
sand Greeks assembled but two thousand fired a shot. 

Fortunately the brunt of the Turkish attack fell upon the 
one little division that was ably commanded. Had the -main 


A TURKISH DEFEAT 


319 


body aided them, not a soldier of Dramali’s army would have 
escaped. As it was, their loss in men was comparatively 
small; but the total destruction of their baggage-train, and, 
still more, the disorganization and depression which followed 
the disaster, inflicted upon them by an enemy they despised, 
completely paralyzed them, and no forward move was again 
attempted. Dramali himself was utterly broken down by the 
humiliation, and died at Corinth two months later. 

Mr. Beveridge was well contented with the success, which 
was due partly to his efforts. He had expended upwards of 
five thousand pounds, and eight thousand muskets and a large 
quantity of ammunition had been distributed from the schooner 
to the peasants. The victory ought, he felt, to have been 
much more conclusive; but the spirit awakened among the 
Moriots, and the confidence that would be engendered through¬ 
out Greece at this victory over an army that had expected to 
overrun the whole country without difficulty, immensely im¬ 
proved the chances that Greek independence would be finally 
established. 

There was, however, one unfortunate consequence of the 
affair. The success of these armed peasants at Argos con¬ 
firmed the Greeks in their idea that discipline was wholly 
unnecessary, that regular troops were a mistake, and that all 
that was needed to conquer the Turks was for the people to 
muster under their local leaders whenever danger threatened. 
This absurd idea was the cause of many heavy disasters which 
subsequently occurred. When the second day’s fighting was 
over the English party made their way back to the schooner. 

“I congratulate you heartily, sir, on the success the Greeks 
have gained,” Martyn said; for the news of the victory had 
already reached him. 

“Thank you, Martyn. It might and ought to have been a 
great deal better. Still, I am very thankful that it is as good 
as it is. I can feel now that, come what may, my mission out 
here has not been altogether a failure. We have done much 
good work in the cause of humanity. My work during the 


320 


IN GREEK WATERS 


last three weeks has been exactly what I pictured it would be 
before I left home. By my personal efforts I did a good deal 
to arouse the enthusiasm of the peasants. My money increased 
my influence, and the arms we brought out contributed largely 
to the success of the fight. I am pleased and gratified.” 

“What sort of time have you had, Miller? ” Martyn asked 
his comrade as they walked up and down the quarter-deck 
together, as Mr. Beveridge descended to his cabin. 

“ It has been good enough, for we have done a lot of 
tramping up hill and down. The chief bought a horse the day 
he landed, or I am sure he never could have stood it; it was 
pretty hard work even for us. You should have seen him, 
day after day, haranguing crowds of villagers. Of course I 
could not understand a word he said; but I can tell you he 
worked them up into a regular frenzy; and the way they 
shouted and waved their hands, and, as I imagine, swore ter¬ 
rible oaths that they would kill and eat every Turk they saw, 
was something tremendous.- It quite electrified our fellows, 
who have been accustomed, I suppose, to consider the chief, 
as a quiet, easy-going gentleman, and they cheered and 
shouted as loudly as the Greeks. Zaimes and his brother went 
off on expeditions, on their own account, to villages we could 
not spare time to go to. We were all right as to quarters and 
grub. The primates and captains, or whatever the leaders 
call themselves, naturally made a lot of us—and no wonder, 
considering how the chief scattered his money among them 
all. The mule that carried the money was pretty heavily laden 
when he went up, but the boxes were emptied before we 
returned. The food, of course, was pretty rough, though it 
was the best they had; but one has been spoiled for roughing 
it by our living here.” 

“I found a difference, I can tell you, Miller, since you 
went, and I am heartily glad that Marco is back again. How 
has the doctor got on? ” 

“I think he has found it harder than he expected,” Miller 
laughed. “ He confided to me to-day that he shall not vol- 


A TURKISH DEFEAT 


321 


unteer for another expedition. But I was very glad he was 
with us; for Horace, of course, was always in the thick of it, 
with his father, jawing away with the village notables, and I 
should have had a dull time of it if it had not been for the 
doctor, whose remarks upon the real enthusiasm of the peas¬ 
antry and the bought enthusiasm of their leaders were very 
amusing. The doctor does not say much when we are all 
together; but he is not at all a bad companion, and there is 
a lot of dry humour about him. And now I sha’n’t be sorry 
when supper is ready, for we have been on our legs since day¬ 
break, and I have had nothing to eat but some bread we 
carried with us and some wine with which we had all filled 
our water-bottles.” 

After this, for a time, the Misericordia had a quiet time of 
it cruising idly about among the Ionian Islands, and then 
crossing to Venice, where they stayed for three weeks. Then 
they crossed the Adriatic again, and put in at the port of 
Missolonghi. Mr. Beveridge was very anxious to hear the 
result of the battle that was expected between the Greek army, 
under Mavrocordatos, and the Turks advancing south. He 
had himself strongly wished to go with the Greek army, but 
had been dissuaded by Horace. 

“ My dear father, if we do any fighting at sea, we assuredly 
do our share without taking part in fighting on shore. When 
we have once seen the Greeks make a successful stand it will 
surely be time enough for us to take any share in the matter. 
The Philhellenes will fight, that is quite certain; but I think 
the odds are all against the Greeks doing so. Besides, as 
you have often said, Mavrocordatos is no more fit to com¬ 
mand an army than any old woman in the streets of Athens 
would be. He knows nothing whatever of military matters, 
and will take no advice from those who do. I think there 
would be a tremendous risk in joining the Greek army, and 
no advantage to be gained from it. Of course, if you wish 
to go I will go with you, and we can take some of the men if 
you like; but I certainly think we had better keep away from 
it altogether.” 


322 


IN GREEK WATERS 


And so, instead of joining the Greek army, they had sailed 
to Venice. As soon as they dropped anchor off Missolonghi 
Horace was rowed ashore to get the news. He returned in 
an hour. 

“It is lucky indeed, father, that we went to Venice instead 
of with Mavrocordatos.” 

“What, have the Greeks been beaten?” 

“ Completely smashed up, father. I have been talking to 
two or three of the Philhellenes who were lucky enough to 
escape. Mavrocordatos sent the army on to Petta, and estab¬ 
lished himself some twenty miles in the rear. His chief of 
the staff, General Normann, felt the position was a very bad 
one, but could not fall back when the Turks advanced, as he 
had no orders. The regular troops, that is, the one regular 
regiment, the hundred Philhellenes, and a body of Ionian 
volunteers, were stationed in a position in front. The Greek 
irregulars, two thousand strong, were placed some distance 
in the rear, and were to cover the regulars from any attack 
from that direction. Two leaders of the irregulars were in 
communication with the Turks; when these advanced, the 
eight hundred men in front, who had two guns with them, 
repulsed them; but Reshid Pasha sent round six hundred 
Albanians, who advanced against a strong position in the 
rear. The whole body of the Greek irregulars bolted like 
rabbits, and then the Turks in front and the Albanians from 
the rear attacked the front division on all sides. They fought 
gallantly. Of the hundred Philhellenes, seventy-five were 
killed, the other twenty-five broke their way through the 
Turkish ranks. The Greek regiment and the Ionians were 
cut up by the Turkish infantry fire, followed by charges of 
their cavalry. Half of them were killed, the others broke 
their way through the Turks. So out of the eight hundred 
men over four hundred were killed. They say that not one 
surrendered. So I think, father, it is very well that we did 
not go up to see the fight, for you would naturally have been 
somewhere near the Philhellenes.” 


A TURKISH DEFEAT 


323 


“This is bad news indeed, Horace/' 

“It is, father; but how the Greeks could suppose that it 
was any use getting up a regular army, consisting of one regi¬ 
ment of six hundred men, to fight the Turks, is more than 
I can imagine. As to their irregulars, except for fighting 
among the mountains, I do not see that they are of the slight¬ 
est good. 

“I am awfully sorry for the foreign officers. After coming 
here, as they did, to fight for Greece, and then forming them¬ 
selves into a corps to encourage the natives to fight, to be 
deserted and left to fight a whole army is shameful. Those I 
spoke to are terribly cut up at the loss of three-quarters of 
their comrades. The Turks are advancing against Misso- 
longhi. The Suliots have made terms, and are to be trans¬ 
ported to the Ionian Islands. The British consul at Prevesa 
guarantees that the terms shall be honourably kept on both 
sides.” 

Mr. Beveridge went ashore later, and returned completely 
disheartened by his conversation with the leading inhabitants. 
He learned that, so far from the defeat at Petta convincing 
the Greeks that it was only by submitting to discipline and 
forming regular regiments that they could hope to oppose the 
Turks, they had determined, on the contrary, that there was no 
hope of fighting in that way, and that henceforward they must 
depend entirely upon the irregulars. 

“Their blindness is extraordinary,” he said. “They saw 
that, few as the disciplined men were, they repulsed the attack 
of the Turkish troops in front, and were only crushed when 
totally surrounded; while, on the other hand, two thousand 
five hundred irregulars were unable even to attempt to make 
a stand against six hundred Albanians, but deserted their 
comrades and fled after scarcely firing a shot; and yet in the 
future they intend to trust solely to these useless bands. 

“At present everyone is quarrelling with everyone else. 
While Reshid Pasha is preparing to invade Greece the captains 
and primates, instead of uniting to oppose them, are quarrel- 


324 


IN GREEK WATERS 


ling and fighting among themselves for their share of the 
national revenues. The district of Agrapha is being laid 
waste by civil broils; the province of Vlochos is being 
devastated by the bands of two rival leaders; Kravari is pil¬ 
laged alternately by the bands of two other scoundrels : Gogos 
and half a dozen other captains have openly gone over to the 
Turks. There is only one hope I can see,” he added bitterly. 

“What is that, Mr. Beveridge?” Martyn asked. 

“ It is, that the Greeks will continue their civil broils until 
they make their country a complete desert; and that the Turks, 
finding that they can obtain no food whatever, will be obliged 
by starvation to quit the country. One thing I am resolved 
upon, and that is, that until the Greeks fight for themselves I 
will do nothing further whatever in the matter. I will still 
try to save women and children, but I will do nothing else. 
I will neither interfere with Turkish commerce nor fire a gun 
at a Turkish ship of war. We will lower our long gun and 
four of the others down into the hold, Captain Martyn, and 
we will cruise about and enjoy ourselves for a bit.” 

“Very well, sir. It is just a year since we arrived out here, 
and a little peace and quiet and amusement will do us no 
harm. I don’t know how it would be with our flag, and 
whether we can sail into Malta or into the Italian ports with 
it, or whether we can hoist our own again.” 

“The papers are all right, I believe,” Mr. Beveridge said. 
“You see, she was nominally sold to the agent here of a Greek 
firm in London, and is therefore registered as the property of 
a Greek subject. I have papers signed by them selling the 
vessel again to me, with blanks for the dates, which can be 
filled in at any time; but these, of course, I could only fill in 
and use in the event of my deciding to leave Greece alto¬ 
gether and return to England. So that, at present, we are 
simply a Greek ship, owned by natives of that country, and 
holding letters of marque from the Greek government to act 
as a privateer. I do not think that the transaction would be 
recognized by any European power in the case of two Euro- 


A TURKISH DEFEAT 


325 


pean belligerents; but this is an exceptional case, as the 
sympathies of all the Christian powers are with the Greeks. 
As far as the Turks are concerned, it makes no difference; 
whether Greek or English, they would hang us if they caught 
us. But I don’t think any very close inquiries are likely to 
be made in any European port. Our Greek papers are all 
correct, and as we know that the account of our having saved 
large numbers of fugitives from Chios has been in the Eng¬ 
lish papers, and doubtless our interference to save the Turks 
at Athens has also been published, I think that we should be 
received well by the sympathizers of either party.” 

The next morning they sailed to Corinth, where they 
remained a few days. John Iskos, Mr. Beveridge’s agent at 
Athens, came across to see him. He informed him that he 
had sold but a very small portion of the goods consigned to 
him in the prizes, but had shipped the great bulk in neutral 
vessels and consigned them to the firm in London; the vessels 
themselves he had disposed of to Hydriot merchants. He 
recommended Mr. Beveridge to hand over to him the store of 
silks and other valuables that had been retained on board the 
schooner, and he would put them at once on board an Italian 
ship at present in the port, and consign them to a Greek house 
in Genoa, as he certainly would not obtain anything like fair 
prices for them in Greece. 

The operation occupied two days, but all the most valuable 
goods were retained, as the prizes might have been recaptured 
by Turks on their way to Athens. The prizes had been 
brought in by Miller and Tarleton alternately, Marco or 
Zaimes accompanying them to interpret, the crews being 
taken back in native boats to Naxos, to which island the 
schooner had made several trips to pick them up. 

For the next two months the schooner cruised in Italian 
waters, from Venice round to Genoa, putting in to many ports, 
making a circuit of Sicily, and paying a short visit to Malta; 
then learning that the Turks were about to besiege Missolonghi, 
and that the town was going to resist until the last, they crossed 


326 


IN GREEK WATERS 


over there in the second week in November. They found 
that the port was blockaded by some Turkish ships from 
Patras, but that some Hydriot vessels were expected to arrive 
shortly. Mavrocordatos was himself in the town organizing 
the defence, and taking really vigorous measures for holding 
out to the last. 

A week later seven Hydriot brigs arrived; the Misericordia , 
which had again mounted all her guns, joined them; but as 
they approached the port the Turkish vessels got up all sail and 
made for Patras, and the Greeks entered the port. Misso- 
longhi was protected by a low mud wall, with a ditch six feet 
deep by sixteen feet wide. It contained but a foot of water, 
but at the bottom was a deep clay, rendering it quite impassa¬ 
ble. There were eight guns mounted on the ramparts, and 
Mr. Beveridge landed at once six more of those still lying in 
the hold, with a supply of ammunition for the whole. 

As soon as the port was open a thousand men crossed over 
from the Morea under the command of partisan chiefs, and 
from time to time others came in, until the garrison, origi¬ 
nally but six hundred strong, was increased to two thousand 
five hundred. For some weeks nothing was done; but on the 
eve of the 6th of January, which was the Greek Christmas-day, 
a Greek fisherman brought in news that the Turks were pre¬ 
paring to assault the next morning at daylight, when they 
believed the Christians would generally be in their churches. 
Forty men were landed from the schooner to take part in the 
defence. At daybreak the defenders were all in their places, 
hidden behind the rampart or concealed in the houses near. 

The storming party was led by eight hundred Albanian 
volunteers. One division was intended to scale the wall on 
its eastern flank, while another was to endeavour to penetrate 
the town by wading through a shallow lagoon at its eastern 
extremity. The whole Turkish army turned out, and suddenly 
opened a tremendous fire of musketry against the ramparts, 
while the storming parties moved forward. The defenders 
remained in their concealment until the Albanians were close 


A TURKISH DEFEAT 


327 


at hand, and then, leaping up, poured their fire into them. 
Expecting to take the defenders by surprise, the Albanians 
were astounded at the sudden and heavy fire poured into them, 
and at once broke and fled in confusion. For some hours the 
Turks kept up a heavy fire, but did not renew their attack in 
earnest. Tons of ammunition were fired away on both sides, 
and then the Turks fell back to their camps, and on the fol¬ 
lowing day raised the siege. 

The wildness of the fire was evidenced by the fact that only 
four Greeks were killed. The blue-jackets from the schooner 
joined in the fire upon the storming parties, but when it was 
evident that the Turks had no idea of renewing the attack 
they returned on board ship. Their remarks upon the com¬ 
batants were the reverse of complimentary. 

“It is well-nigh enough to make a man sick, Tom,” one 
man said to another in Horace’s hearing. “To see them both 
blazing away good powder and lead like that, I reckon to be 
downright sinful.” 

“You are right there, mate. It is a downright waste of the 
gifts of Providence. Why, there was powder and ball enough 
to have killed a good five thousand Englishmen and French¬ 
men thrown away in accounting for four or five of them yelling 
fellows. It is more like play-acting than-fighting. Why, if 
you was to arm a couple of gals’ schools and put ’em to fire 
at each other they would do ever so much better than that. 
And to think them Greeks calls themselves Christians and 
don’t know how to aim a musket no better than that; they 
might just as well be heathen.” 

While Missolonghi had been resisting successfully, the 
Turkish garrison of Nauplia had at last surrendered. After 
Dramali’s army had abandoned it the only hope that remained 
to them was that the fleet might return. The Greeks retained 
possession of a small fort that had been given up to them at 
the time that the first negotiations for surrender were going 
on. From this fort combustible missiles were fired into the 
town, and a brisk cannonade kept up with its defences, but 


328 


IN GREEK WATERS 


without much damage being done on either side. On the 
20th of September the Turkish fleet appeared off the entrance 
to the gulf, and the Greek fleet from the islands of Hydra and 
Spetzas stood out to meet them. 

Unfortunately Admiral Kanaris was not present. For four 
days the two fleets remained in sight of each other, firing at 
such distances that no harW was done on either side. There 
was nothing to have prevented the Turkish admiral relieving 
Nauplia and landing the troops and provisions in his trans¬ 
ports; but he feared to enter the gulf, while the Greeks shrank 
equally from an attack upon him. After thus exhibiting for 
four days his cowardice and incapacity, the Turkish capitan- 
pasha abandoned Nauplia to its fate. The resistance only 
continued because the Turks could put no reliance upon the 
oaths of the Greeks. Women and children dropped dead 
from hunger in the streets; the soldiers were so weak from 
starvation that but few were able to carry their arms. The 
citadel was at last abandoned simply because the soldiers who 
went down into the town to fetch the scanty rations for its 
defenders were too weak to climb the hill again; and the 
Greeks, as soon as they learned that it was abandoned, occu¬ 
pied the position. Kolokotronis and a number of other 
leaders, attracted by the prospect of booty, hurried to the 
spot like vultures round a carcass. 

Negotiations w 6 re again opened, and the Turks surren¬ 
dered on the terms of the Greeks engaging to transport them 
to Asia Minor, allowing each to retain a single suit of clothes, 
a quilt for bedding, and a carpet for prayer. As soon as the 
terms were signed, Kolokotronis and the captains entered the 
town with their personal followers and prevented all others 
from entering. The soldiers assembled before the gates, de¬ 
claring that they would not allow the chiefs to appropriate 
to themselves everything valuable, threatening to storm the 
place, murder the Turks, and sack the town. Greece was 
saved from fresh dishonour by the timely arrival of the Eng¬ 
lish frigate Cambrian , commanded by Captain Hamilton. He 


A TURKISH DEFEAT 


329 


was a strong friend of Greece, and was known to many of the 
Greek leaders. 

He at once held a conference with them, and in the strongest 
language urged upon them the necessity of taking measures 
for the execution of the capitulation, for that another breach 
of faith, another foul massacre, would render the name of 
Greece despicable in civilized Europe and ruin the cause of 
the country. Hamilton’s character was greatly respected, and 
his words had their effect. He insisted upon their chartering 
ships to embark the Turks. He himself took five hundred 
of them on board the Cambrian , and nine hundred were 
embarked in the Greek transports. This interference of Cap¬ 
tain Hamilton excited great anger in Greece. 

The Turkish fleet did not escape absolutely scathless after 
its inglorious departure from Nauplia. Although unmolested 
by the Greeks, it sailed north, and anchored inside the island 
of Tenedos. 

Kanaris persuaded the people of Psara to fit out two fire¬ 
ships. He took the command of one, and both sailed for the 
Turkish fleet, which they approached at daybreak. Two line- 
of-battle ships were anchored to windward of the rest of the 
fleet. Kanaris undertook the destruction of the ship to lee¬ 
ward, that being the most difficult operation. He succeeded 
as well as he had done on two previous occasions. He ran 
the enemy aboard to windward, lashed the fire-ship there, and 
fired the train. The Turk was at once enveloped in flames, 
and the whole of the crew, eight hundred in number, perished. 

But Kanaris seemed to be the only Greek naval officer who 
had the necessary courage and coolness to manoeuvre success¬ 
fully with fire-ships. The other captain ran his fire-ship along¬ 
side the man-of-war which carried the flag of the capitan-pasha. 
The position of the fire-ship was, however, ill chosen, and after 
being set on fire it drifted away without doing injury to the 
Turk. The rest of the Turkish fleet cut their cables and made 
for the Dardanelles, while one corvette ran ashore on Tenedos. 
Another was abandoned by her crew. Kanaris and the crews 
of the two fire-ships returned safely to Psara in their boats. 


330 


IN GREEK WATERS 


CHAPTER XIX 


PRISONERS 


NE day, after cruising along the coast inside the island of 



^ Euboea or Negropont, the Misericordia entered the Gulf 
of Zeitouni, the Sinus Maliacus of the ancients. When they 
were nearly at the head of the gulf Horace asked Captain 
Martyn to let him go ashore to a little village at the water’s 
edge to get some vegetables and fruit, of which the supply 
had run out. 

“Just as you like, Horace. A boat-load of green stuff of 
some sort or other would be very welcome, and if you can 
pick up half a dozen kids so much the better.” 

“I am thinking I will go with you, Horace,” Macfarlane 
said; “it does a man good to stretch his legs ashore once in 
a way.” 

The gig was at once lowered, and on Horace and the doctor 
taking their seats in the stern, four sailors rowed them ashore. 

“I sha’n’t take the trouble to anchor,” Martyn said as they 
left the ship. “I expect you will be back in an hour, and I 
shall keep her standing off and on till I see you put out.” 

Leaving two of the men in charge of the boat, Horace 
told the other two to take some of the baskets they had 
brought ashore and follow him. Some women looked out 
timidly at the doors of the houses, but no men were to be seen 
about. 

“We are friends,” Horace said; “do you not see we are 
flying the Greek flag? Where are all the men? ” 

“They have gone away with Vriones. He came with an 
armed band and said that every man must go with him to 
fight.” 

“Who have they gone to fight? ” 

“Ah! that we don’t know. He talked about fighting the 
Turks, but we think it more likely that he is going to fight 


PRISONERS 


331 

Rhangos. They are at war with each other. Oh, these are 
bad times! What with the war with the Turks, and the war of 
one captain with another, and what with bands of klephts who 
plunder everyone, there is no peace nor quiet. They say 
Rhangos is going to join the Turks, as many other klepht 
leaders have done. To us it makes little difference who are 
masters, so that we know who they are. In the time of the 
Turks we had peace; we had to pay taxes, but we knew what 
they were. Now everybody wants taxes. These are evil 
.days,” 

“We want some vegetables and some fruit,” Horace said. 
“We do not wish to rob you, and are ready to pay a fair price 
for everything.” 

“Those we can sell you,” the woman said, “it is nearly all 
we have left. There are vegetables everywhere, and they are 
not worth stealing.” 

The news soon spread, and the women and children of the 
village were soon engaged in gathering and tying up vege¬ 
tables. The sailors made several trips backwards and forwards 
to the boats with laden baskets, while the doctor and Horace, 
seated upon a low wall, watched the women at work in the 
gardens, and paid the sum agreed upon for each basketful that 
was carried off. Suddenly, without the slightest warning, 
there was a rush of men behind them, and before they could 
draw their pistols they were seized, thrown down, and bound. 

“What is the meaning of this?” Horace asked indignantly. 
“ We are officers of that ship there, which is in the service of 
Greece. As you are Greeks, what do you mean by molesting 
us? ” 

No reply was given. There was a sudden outburst of firing 
down by the boat, and the screams of women rose in the air. 
The men who had bound them moved away at the order of an 
officer, leaving two with muskets standing over the prisoners. 

“This is a nice business, doctor; I expect we have fallen 
into the hands of Rhangos, the fellow the women were speak¬ 
ing about, and the men of this village have gone out with some 


332 


IN GREEK WATERS 


other scoundrel to fight. I suppose he had spies about, and 
came down to plunder the place in their absence. She said 
she heard Rhangos was going to join the Turks; his capturing 
us certainly looks as if at present he was hostile to the Greeks. 
If he takes us away and hands us over to the Turks it is a .bad 
look-out.” 

“He will have to be quick about it,” the doctor said, “they 
are still firing occasional shots down by the water. That 
looks as if the boat has got away, and you may be sure Martyn 
won’t be long before he sends as many men as he can spare 
ashore to find us. There, do you hear?” and as he spoke 
there was the deep boom of a gun, followed by the rush of a 
shot overhead. 

Orders were shouted angrily directly afterwards. Some 
men ran up, cut the cords that bound the prisoners’ legs, and 
then, seizing them by the arms, hurried them away, threaten¬ 
ing them with instant death if they did not keep up with 
them. As they mounted the high ground behind the village 
Horace glanced round. Three boats were just leaving the 
schooner. A blow from one of the Greeks that, bound as he 
was, nearly threw him down, compelled him to turn his head 
and hurry forward again. For hours they hastened along. 
When about a mile from the village a sharp fire was heard to 
break out in that direction. As they had only eight men with 
them, they doubted not that Rhangos was with the main body 
opposing the landing. 

“Our fellows will soon clear them out of the village,” 
Horace said to the doctor. “ I only hope that, as they retire, 
the Greeks will follow us, for you may be sure that Martyn 
and Miller will press hard on them, and may perhaps over¬ 
take us.” 

Up to nightfall, however, none of the band came up. The 
country had been getting more and more hilly, and at sunset 
they halted far up on the side of a mountain. Here a fire was 
lit, and some portions of a kid that had evidently been part 
of the plunder of the village were put over it to roast. The 


PRISONERS 


333 


fire was kept blazing, and the doctor and Horace agreed that 
it was probably intended as a signal to their comrades. A 
lump of meat was thrown to each of the captives, their cords 
being loosed sufficiently to enable them to use their hands, 
their legs being tightly bound again as soon as they had halted. 
At eight o’clock a sound of voices was heard, and presently a 
party of Greeks, fully a hundred strong, came up. They were 
evidently in an ill temper, and replied sulkily to the questions 
of the guard of the prisoners. Horace gathered from their 
answers that they had fired a volley upon the boats as they 
approached; then, seeing they came on without a pause, had 
at once run from the village and scattered, reuniting some 
miles on. 

“We lost everything we had taken,” one of the men said. 
“ We had it all packed and ready to carry away, when those 
confounded sailors came. Some of us did start with our 
bundles, but they came so fast up to us that we had to throw 
everything away, and even then we had a lot of difficulty in 
keeping away from them. I expect they caught some. It 
was lucky we started off when we did; if we had waited till 
they landed very few would have got away.” 

“Didn’t they shoot?” one of the guards asked. 

“No, they never fired a shot. I don’t know whether they 
came ashore without powder, but from first to last they never 
fired.” 

“They knew we had these two in our hands,” the guards 
said, “and they were afraid if they killed any of us we should 
take it out of our prisoners, and I think they were about right. 
Ah! here comes Rhangos. He had to take to a farmhouse 
before he had gone half a mile, and I suppose if any of them 
looked in they would have seen him feeding pigs or something 
of that sort, with his finery and arms hidden away.” 

The klepht had now come up to the fire. He was a spare 
man, some fifty years old, with a keen hungry face. 

“Are all here? ” he asked briefly. 

“We are six short of our number,” a man, who by his dress 
had evidently the rank of an officer among them, replied. 


334 


IN GREEK WATERS 


“Killed?” 

“No, there was no firing; I expect those sailors ran them 
down.” 

“Then we must march in half-an-hour, they will make them 
lead them here. Now, then, who are you?” he asked the 
doctor as the elder of the prisoners. 

“My friend does not speak Greek,” Horace replied. “As 
you must be well aware we are officers of that schooner that 
was lying off the village. This is the doctor, I am third lieu¬ 
tenant. We are friends of Greece, we have been in action 
against the Turkish ships of war, we have saved great num¬ 
bers of Greek fugitives from the Turks, now this is the treat¬ 
ment that we receive at the hands of the Greeks.” 

Horace’s reticence as to the fact that he was the son of the 
owner of the schooner was the result of a conversation with 
the doctor. 

“These scoundrels have no doubt carried us off either for 
the purpose of getting a ransom for us or of handing us over 
to the Turks as an acceptable present. I expect the idea of 
ransom is at the bottom of it. We have heard of this fellow 
Rhangos before. He is a noted klepht, and more Albanian 
than Greek. Whatever you do, Horace, don’t you let out you 
are the owner’s son. If you do there is no saying how much 
ransom they might ask for you. They think that an English¬ 
man who fits out a ship at his own expense to come out here 
must be rolling in money. As long as they think that they 
have only got hold of a doctor and a third lieutenant they 
cannot ask a high price for them, but for an owner’s son 
there is no saying what figure they might put him at. Have 
you got a second name? ” 

“Yes, I am Horace Hendon Beveridge. Hendon was my 
mother’s name.” 

“That is lucky; you can give them Horace Hendon. It is 
likely they may know your father’s name, for the Misericordia 
and her doings have been a good deal talked about. I am 
not in favour of anyone telling a lie, Horace, but as it is no 


PRISONERS 


335 


lie to give your two first names without giving your third, I 
cannot see that there is harm in it.” 

“The ship belongs to the Lord Beveridge? ” Rhangos asked 
next. 

“Yes, that is his name,” Horace replied. 

“What is your name and that of your companion? ” 

Horace gave his two Christian names and the name of his 
companion. 

“Have you paper? ” the klepht said. 

“I have a note-book in my pocket.” 

“That will do. Now write in Greek: My Lord Beveridge, 
This is to give you notice that—now write the two names ”— 
“‘ Donald Macfarlane and Horace Hendon, ’ ” Horace repeated 
as he wrote them, “ surgeon and third lieutenant of your ship, 
are captives in my hands, and that unless three hundred 
pounds in gold are paid to me as ransom for them they will 
be put to death. If there is any attempt to rescue the pris¬ 
oners they will at once be shot. The messenger will arrange 
with you how and where the ransom is to be paid.” 

The klepht added his own name in scrawling characters at 
the bottom of the note, then called one of the men and gave 
him instructions as to where and how the ransom was*to be 
paid, and then sent him off. As soon as the band had satis¬ 
fied their hunger the march among the mountains was con¬ 
tinued for another two hours. Then they threw themselves 
down by the side of a stream in a valley surrounded on all 
sides with craggy hills, and two men with muskets were placed 
as sentries over the prisoners. 

“Well, this is not so bad,” Horace said. “It is certainly 
very lucky you gave me that hint about my name. Three 
hundred is not very much to pay to get out of such a scrape 
as this. I suppose there is no fear about their giving us up 
when they get the money.” 

“I think not,” the doctor replied. “They would never get 
ransoms if they did not keep their word. I only hope that 
no one may let out before the messenger who you are. If 
they do, there will be a very serious rise in prices.” 


336 


IN GREEK WATERS 


“ Fortunately none of them speak Greek but my father, and 
probably he would read the note before he would ask any 
questions.” 

“Maybe yes, and maybe no,” the doctor said. “He is as 
like as not to say when he sees a messenger, ‘Is my son alive 
and well ? ’ and then the cat would be out of the bag. Still, 
your father is a prudent man, and may keep a still tongue in 
his head, especially when he sees that the note is in your own 
handwriting. However, we will hope for the best.” 

Morning had dawned some time before there was any 
movement among the band. Then their fires were lighted 
and breakfast cooked. 

“Will the English lord pay the ransom for you, do you 
think?” Rhangos asked, sauntering up to Horace. 

Horace shrugged his shoulders. 

“ It is a large sum to pay for two officers,” he said. 

“He is rich, it is nothing to him.” 

“He is well off, no doubt,” Horace said; “but it is not 
everyone who is well off who is disposed to part with money 
for-other people.” 

“Well, it will be bad for you if he doesn’t pay,” the klepht 
said^pgnificantly. 

Three hours later the messenger was seen coming up the 
valley. Horace looked at him anxiously as he approached, 
and was pleased to see that, as he spoke to Rhangos, there was 
no expression of surprise or exultation in the latter’s face. 
He nodded when the other had finished, and then went to the 
fire where two or three of his lieutenants were sitting, saying 
briefly to Horace as he passed him, “He will pay.” Horace 
could hear what he said to the others. 

“ Demetri says the Englishman did not. like paying the 
money. There was a good deal of talk between him and his 
officers before he came back to him and said, that though the 
demand was extortionate he would pay it. He said he should 
complain to the central government, and should expect them 
to refund it and settle with you.” There was a general laugh 
among his hearers. 


PRISONERS 


337 


“I ought to have asked more,” the klepht went on; “but I 
don’t know these English. Of course if any of you were taken, 
my dear friends, I would give all I have to ransom you.” 
The assertion was received with mocking laughter, as he went 
on calmly: “But you see other people are not animated by 
the same generous feeling as we Greeks, and I don’t suppose 
this milord sets any particular value on the lad, or on that 
long-shanked doctor. He can hire more of them, and I 
expect he only agreed to pay the money because his other 
officers insisted on it. They are rolling in wealth these Eng¬ 
lish, but they are mean; if not, how is it that our pockets are 
not filled with English gold when we are fighting for a sacred 
cause? ” 

His hearers were highly tickled by this sentiment. 

“When are they to be delivered up, Rhangos? ” 

“ At mid-day to-morrow at Pales, the village halfway between 
the foot of the hills and the sea. Four men are to take them 
down to within a quarter of a mile of the village; then 
Demetri will go in and get the gold; then when he returns 
with- it to the others the prisoners will be freed.” 

“ I should have thought the matter might have been arranged 
to-day,” one of the men said. ^ 

“So it might have been,” the klepht replied; “but I could 
not tell that. I thought that Demetri would not be able to go 
off to the ship this morning. He had six hours’ walking, and 
would not be there until two hours past midnight; then he 
would have to rest for an hour or two after he had seen them, 
and then six hours to walk back. It would have been too late 
to deliver them up before dark, and I should never think of 
sending them in the dark—their guards might fall into an 
ambush. As it was, Demetri found them in the village. 
They had not returned, as I thought they would do, on board 
their ship. He walked in, thinking the pace was empty, 
when two of those sailors jumped out on him with cutlasses. 
Thinking that they were going to cut his throat he showed 
them the letter. They led him to the principal house in the 


338 


IN GREEK WATERS 


village, and one went in while another held him fast outside. 
He heard a great talking and excitement in the house, and 
presently he was taken in. Then, as I told you, there was a 
great talk, and at last they agreed to pay the ransom. As 
soon as he got his answer he started on his way back, lay down 
for an hour or two in an empty cottage, and then came on 
here. We will stay where we are until to-morrow morning; 
then, Kornalis, you shall start with four men, and Demetri 
and the captives, and we will go on our way. We will deal 
another blow to Vriones, and then we will be off. We will 
fix on some place where you can join us after you have got 
the ransom.” 

‘‘It could not have happened better for us,” Horace said to 
his companion after he had translated the klepht’s story. 
“ As it turned out, you see, my father got the note before he 
could say a word to the messenger. That was a capital move 
their pretending to hesitate about paying the ransom. If 
they had jumped at it this scoundrel is perfectly capable of 
raising his terms. As it is, he thinks he was clever enough to 
hit upon just the maximum sum that could be got for us. 
Well, it is all right now.” 

“ It will be all right when we are among the others, Horace; 
there is never any saying what may happen in this country. 
Some of the peasants these fellows have been robbing may fall 
on us, seeing we are but a small party. This Vriones with 
his bandits, who I daresay are just as bad as these fellows, 
may happen to meet us. No, we won’t calculate too confi¬ 
dently. Things have gone on very well so far. We will just 
hope they will go on to the end.” 

Now that the affair was considered to be settled, but little 
attention was paid to the prisoners. Their cords were taken 
off, and they were permitted to move about, two men keep¬ 
ing an eye upon them, but not following them closely. They 
congratulated themselves that the sailors had withheld their 
fire, for undoubtedly their position would have been very 
different had some of the brigands been killed. So far from 


PRISONERS 


339 


bearing any animosity now, the men chatted with them in a 
friendly manner, asked questions about their ship, and their 
encounters with the Turks. 

“We would rather fight for the Greeks than the Turks,” 
one said: “but we follow our captains. There is neither pay 
nor plunder to be obtained with the Greeks; and as Odysseus 
and all the other chiefs play their own game, and think only 
of making money, why should poor devils like us be particu¬ 
lar? All Albanian tribes have had their wars against each 
other as long as we or our fathers can remember. We know 
nothing about the Greece that they talk so much of now. 
There were the Morea and other provinces, and so there have 
always been so far as we know, and it is nothing to us whether 
■ they are ruled by Turks or by their own captains. As to relig¬ 
ion, many of our tribes are Mussulmans, many are Chris¬ 
tians. We do not see that it makes any difference. 

“ Everyone plunders when he gets a chance. Why should 
I want to cut a man’s throat because he is a Mussulman? His 
father was a Christian before him; my son may be a Mussul¬ 
man after me. What does it matter? Since the fight at 
Petta many chiefs have gone over to the Turks, and if the 
Greeks win a battle most of them will go back again. The 
affair is nothing to us. . On the mountains we hunt where we 
are most likely to get game. You like to hunt for amusement, 
and so you have come out here on a matter which does not 
at all concern you. We hunt to live, and don’t much care 
whether we take a sheep out of one flock or another.” 

Horace smiled at the man’s avowal of the want of any prin¬ 
ciple whatever. 

“I was a schoolmaster,” one of the lieutenants of the band, 
who was stretched at full length smoking and listening to the 
conversation, remarked. “I know about the old time, but I 
don’t know anything of this Greece you speak of. Where 
was it? What did it do? It was just then as it is now. 
There were a number of little tribes under their own captains. 
Athens, and Corinth, and Sparta, and Argos, and Thebes, and 


340 


IN GREEK WATERS 


the rest of them always fighting against each other just as our 
Albanian clans do; not even ready to put aside their own 
quarrels to fight against an invader. Pooh! There never was 
a Greece, and I neither know nor care whether there ever will 
be. Why should we throw away our lives for a dream? ” 

“Yes; but at any rate the Greeks have a common language, 
which shows they are one people.” 

“Families fall out more than strangers,” the man replied 
with a laugh. “ You English and the Americans have a common 
language, and yet you have been fighting against each other, 
and they refuse to remain one nation with you. These things 
signify no more than the smoke of my pipe. A Christian’s 
money, and a Christian’s goods and cattle, are worth just as 
much to me as a Turk’s; and my captain, who pays me, is 
more to me than either Mavrocordatos or the Sultan. I dare¬ 
say that English milord is a worthy man, though he must be a 
fool, and yet the wine I shall buy out of my share of his money 
will be just as good as if it had grown in my father’s vineyard.” 

Horace laughed. He was not skilled in argument, even 
had he any inclination to indulge in it at the present time; 
and he sauntered off and sat down by the doctor, who, not 
beinp able to talk with the Greeks, found the time hang heavy 
on hand. Horace repeated to him his conversation with the 
two brigands. 

“I own I did not know how to answer the last fellow, 
doctor.” 

“There is no answer to be made, Horace. To argue, men 
must have a common ground to start from. There is no 
common ground between you and him. His argument is the 
argument of the materialist everywhere, whether he is Briton, 
Frenchman, or Greek. To a man who has neither religion 
nor principles there remains only self-interest, and from that 
point of view there is no gainsaying the arguments of that 
Albanian scamp any more than it would have been of use for 
a lowland merchant carried off by Highland caterans to urge 
upon them that their conduct was contrary to the laws both 


PRISONERS 


341 


of morality and political economy. They would have said 
that they knew nothing about either, and cared less, and that 
unless his goodwife or fellow citizens put their hands in their 
pockets and sent the ransom they demanded, his head would 
be despatched to them in a hamper with small delay. He 
certainly had you on the hip with what he said about ancient 
Greece, for a more quarrelsome, cantankerous, waspish set of 
little communities the world never saw, unless it were the 
cities of Italy in the middle ages, which at any rate were of a 
respectable size, which was, by the way, the only respectable 
thing about them. Religion and principle and patriotism are 
the three things that keep men and nations straight, and 
neither the Greek nor Italian communities had the least 
glimmering of an idea of either of them, except a love for 
their own petty states may be called patriotism.” 

“A good deal like your Highland clansmen, I should say, 
doctor,” Horace laughed. “The head of the clan was a much 
greater man in the eyes of his followers than the King of 
Scotland.” 

“That is so, Horace; and the consequence was, that while 
there was peace and order and prosperity in the lowlands, the 
Highlands scarcely made a step forward until the clans were 
pretty well broken up after Culloden. It was a sore business 
at the time, but no one can doubt that it did good in the long 
run. And now, lad, I think that I will just take a sleep. It 
was not many hours we got of it last night, and you see most 
of these fellows have set us an example.” 

The next morning they started at daybreak. The main 
body of the band had moved off hours before, leaving the 
Lieutenant Kornalis, Demetri, and four of the men. Three 
hours’ walking took them out of the mountains. There was 
little talking. The Greeks would have preferred going with 
their leader to plunder another village, for although the booty 
taken was supposed to be all handed over to the chief for fair 
distribution, there were few who did not conceal some trinket 
or money as their own special share of the plunder. They 


342 


IN GREEK WATERS 


were but a mile or two beyond the hills, when, from a wood 
skirting the road, four or five shots rang out. 

Two of the Greeks fell; the rest, throwing away their guns, 
fled at the top of their speed. Before the prisoners had time 
to recover from their surprise a number of men rushed out, 
and with the butts of their muskets and pistols struck them to 
the ground. When they recovered their senses a group of 
men were standing round them, while at some little distance 
they could hear the sound of firing, showing that the pursuit of 
their late captors was being closely maintained. By this time 
they had become sufficiently accustomed to the various cos¬ 
tumes to know that they had now fallen into the hands of men 
of one of the Albanian tribes, probably Mussulmans acting as 
irregulars with the Turkish army, engaged upon a raiding 
expedition. One of them asked Horace a question, but the 
dialect was so different to that of the Greeks of Athens and 
the Morea that he was unable to understand it. Presently the 
men who had gone in pursuit returned, and the whole party 
set off to the north, placing their prisoners in their midst, and 
warning them by pointing significantly to their knives and 
pistols that they had better keep up with them. 

“Eh! man,” the doctor said; “but it is dreadful. Just as 
we thought that everything was settled, and that in another 
couple of hours we should be with our own people, here we 
are in the hands of a pack of villains even worse than the 
others.” 

“You said that we should not shout until we were out of the 
wood, doctor, and you have turned out a true prophet; but at 
present I am thinking more of my head than of anything else, 
I am sure I have got a couple of lumps on it as big as eggs.” 

“ It shows the folly of man,” the doctor said philosophically. 
“What good could they expect to get from knocking us down? 
We were neither fighting nor running away. We had not our 
wits about us, lad, or we should have just taken to our heels.” 

“I expect they would have caught us if we had. We have 
neither of us had much walking lately, and those fellows are 


PRISONERS 


343 


always climbing among their mountains. Do you think it is 
of any use trying to make them understand that if they will 
take us a few miles farther they will find three hundred pounds 
waiting for them? ” 

“You might try, Horace; but I don’t think that it will be 
of any use. I expect they are just skirting along at the foot 
of the hills to see what they can pick up. There are not 
above thirty of them, and they would not like to go far out 
upon the plains; besides, I don’t know that it would turn out 
well. If they were to go on in a body, Martyn would as likely 
as not fire at them, and then they would think that we had led 
them into an ambush, and shoot us without waiting to ask any 
question. Still, you can try if you like; we might be sorry 
afterwards if we didn’t.” 

But when Horace tried to speak to the men he was threat¬ 
ened roughly, and he lapsed into silence. For three hours 
they ascended a great range of hills running east and west. 
When they gained the crest they could see stretched away far 
in front of them a flat and fertile country. 

“The plains of Thessaly,” the doctor said; “the fairest and 
richest portion of the Greece of old. There is little chance 
of its forming part of the Greece of the future, at least not 
until a complete overthrow of the Turkish Empire. If Greece 
attains her independence the frontier line will be somewhere 
along the crest of these hills, for Thessaly, although there was 
some slight trouble there at first, has not joined the move¬ 
ment. There are no mountains and fortresses where they can 
take refuge, and a troop of Turkish cavalry could scour the 
whole country. There is where we are bound for, I expect; ” 
and he pointed to a large clump of white tents far out on the 
plain. “ I expect that is the camp of the Pasha of the prov¬ 
ince. I suppose he is going to operate on this side when the 
main force advances to the west.” 

It took them another four hours’ walking before they ap¬ 
proached the camp. When within a short distance of it their 
captors turned off and entered a village where numbers of 


344 


IN GREEK WATERS 


their countrymen were sitting in the shade smoking or dozing. 
The band went on until they reached the principal house in 
the village, and four of them entering took their prisoners 
into a room where a tall old chief was sitting on a divan. 
They talked for some minutes, evidently explaining the cir¬ 
cumstances of their capture. When they had done, the chief 
asked the prisoners in Greek who they were. 

“We are Englishmen,” Horace replied; “we belong to a 
ship lying off a village whose name 1 don’t know. We had 
landed to buy fruit and vegetables, and then we were suddenly 
seized and carried away to the mountains by some Greek 
brigands led by a fellow named Rhangos. We had arranged 
for a ransom and were on our way under a guard to the village 
where the money was to be paid when your band put the 
Greeks to flight and made us prisoners.” 

“How much ransom was to be paid? ” the Albanian asked. 

“Three hundred pounds, and if you will send us there now 
our friends will be glad to pay it to your people. I tried to 
explain that to them on the way, but they would not listen to 
me.” 

“They are fools,” the chief said decidedly; “and besides, 
they don’t speak Greek. It is too late now. I must take you 
to the Pasha, who will deal with you as he chooses.” Then 
rising, and followed by a group of his officers and the pris¬ 
oners in charge of four men, he walked across to the Turkish 
camp. 

“They are a picturesque-looking set of cut-throats,” Mac- 
farlane said. 

“ That they are. People at home would stare to see them 
with their white kilted petticoats and gaudy sashes, with their 
pistols inlaid with silver, and their embroidered jackets and 
white shirt sleeves. Well, what are we to say if we are asked 
about the ship?” 

“We must tell the truth, lad; I doubt not they have had 
news before now that the schooner is cruising about on the 
coast; and even if we were disposed to tell a lie, which we 


PRISONERS 


345 


are not, they would guess where we had come from. No 
English merchantman would be likely to be anchored off the 
coast here to buy vegetables; and, indeed, there are very few 
British vessels of any sort in these waters now. You need not 
just tell them that the schooner is the craft that.has been play¬ 
ing the mischief over on the other coast and robbed them of 
their Chiot slaves; nor is it precisely necessary to enter into 
that affair near Cyprus. We need simply say, if we are asked, 
that we are Englishmen in the naval service of Greece; I 
don’t expect they will ask many questions after that, or that 
we shall have any occasion to do much more talking.” 

“You think they will hang us, doctor.” 

“ It may be hanging, Horace, or it may be shooting, and 
for my part I am not very particular which it is. Shooting is 
the quickest, but then hanging is more what I may call my 
family way of dying. I should say that as many as a score of 
my ancestors were one way or another strung up by the Stuarts 
on one miserable pretence or other, such as cattle-lifting, 
settling a grudge without bothering the law-courts, and trifles 
of that sort.” 

Horace burst into a fit of laughter, which caused the Alba¬ 
nian chief to look round sharply and inquiringly. 

“ It is all right, old chap,” Macfarlane muttered in English; 
“we are just laughing while we can, and there is no contempt 
of court intended.” 

The Pasha was in a tent considerably larger than those that 
surrounded it. The Albanian went in, leaving the prisoners 
in charge of their guard. In five minutes he came out and 
signed to them to follow him in. The Pasha was an elderly 
man with a snow-white beard. He looked at the prisoners 
with some interest. 

“I hear that you are Englishmen,” he said in Greek. 

“That is so, sir.” 

“And that you are in the Greek service.” 

“We were in the Greek service, but after being carried off 
by Greek brigands I do not know that we shall have any 
inclination to remain in it.” 



34 G 


IN GREEK WATERS 


“ If you had been taken fighting against us I should have 
ordered you to be shot,” the Pasha said; “ but as it is I do 
not know. Do you belong to that schooner with white sails 
that has been cruising off the coast some days? ” 

“We do,” Horace admitted. 

“I am told,” the Pasha went on, “that she is the ship that 
did us much harm at Chios.” 

“We were attacked, and we beat off the boats,” Horace 
said. “That is fair warfare. Our principal object has been 
to rescue people in danger or distress, whether Christian or 
Turk. We rescued numbers of Chiot slaves. And on the 
other hand we saved numbers of Turks at the surrender of the 
Acropolis at Athens, and conveyed them safely to Tenedos, 
where we landed them; and the governor there recognized 
our service to his countrymen, and came off to the ship and 
invited us on shore to dine with him.” 

“Yes, I have heard about that,” the Pasha said. “We 
have all heard of the white schooner. She has been a dan¬ 
gerous enemy to us, and has done us more harm than the 
whole of the Greeks together; but after your humanity at 
Athens I cannot feel animosity against you. It was a noble 
deed and worthy of brave men. Thus it is that nations should 
fight, but the Greeks began by massacre, and have been false 
to the oaths they swore twenty times. How can you fight for 
men who have neither courage nor faith, and who are as cruel 
as they are cowardly?” 

“There have been cruelties on both sides,” Horace said, 
“ though I own that the Greeks began it; but in England we 
love freedom, and it is not long since we drove the French 
out of Egypt and preserved it for you. Our sympathies are 
with the Greeks, because they were oppressed. We have never 
killed a Turk save in fair fight, and the crews of every ship 
we have taken w.e have permitted to return to shore in their 
boats without injuring one of them.” 

“ This also I have heard,” the Pasha said, “ and therefore I 
will do you no harm. I will send you to Constantinople, 


PRISONERS 


347 


where the Sultan will decide upon your fate. He has given 
orders that all foreigners taken in arms against us shall at 
once be put to death for interfering in a matter in which they 
have no concern; but as you were not taken in arms I do not 
feel that the order applies to you, and will therefore take upon 
myself to send you to him.” 

“I thank you, sir,” Horace said, “though I fear it will only 
be a reprieve.” 

“I cannot say,” the pasha replied gravely. “The Sultan 
strikes hard when he wishes to give a lesson. You see, his 
people were massacred wholesale by the Greeks, and at Chios 
he taught them that he could retaliate; but he is not cruel by 
choice. He is unswerving when his mind is made up. 
Whether he will make an exception in your case or not is 
more than I can say. I can only send you to him, and hope 
that he will be as merciful in your case as I would be had I 
the power.” 

Then he ordered one of his officers to take charge of the 
prisoners, to see that they had a comfortable tent and were 
well cared for, and that none molested them. Four soldiers 
were to be always on guard at the tent, and to answer for the 
safety of the prisoners with their lives. In a short time they 
were placed in a tent among those allotted to the officers, and 
four sentries were placed round it. After sunset two soldiers 
brought large trays with meat, vegetables, and sweets from the 
pasha’s own table, and also a bottle of raki. 

“The Turk is a gentleman, Horace,” the doctor said as, 
after having finished dinner, he mixed himself some spirits 
and water. “ I am not saying, mind you, that I would not 
have mightily preferred a bottle of good whisky; but I am 
bound to say that when one has once got accustomed to it, 
raki has its virtues. It is an insinuating spirit, cool and mild 
to the taste, and dangerous to one who is not accustomed to 
it. What do you think of it, Horace?” 

“I don’t care for it, but then I don’t care for any spirits,” 
Horace said; “but I thoroughly agree with you that the pasha 


348 


IN GREEK WATERS 


is a good fellow, only I wish he could have seen his way to 
have let us go. The Sultan is a terrible personage, and the 
way he has hung up hostages at Constantinople has been awful. 
If he has made up his mind that he will deter foreigners from 
entering the Greek service by showing no mercy to those who 
fall into his hands, I have no very great hope that he will make 
any exception in our case.” 


CHAPTER XX 

AT CONSTANTINOPLE 

U PON the following morning horses were brought round and 
they were ordered to mount. An officer with twelve 
Turkish troopers took charge of them. The pasha came out 
from his tent. 

“I am sending a letter to the Porte saying what I know of 
the doings of your ship, and of the service you rendered by 
saving our countrymen at Athens. I have also given direc¬ 
tions that the vessel conveying you shall touch at Tenedos, 
and have written to the governor there asking him also to send 
on a letter in your favour.” 

After an hour’s riding they reached the town of Larissa, 
and then followed the river on which it stands down to the 
sea. 

“ What a lovely country! ” Horace exclaimed as he looked 
at the mountains to the right and left. 

“We are travelling on classical ground,” the doctor replied. 
“This is the vale of Tempe, that hill to the right is Mount 
Ossa, that to the left is Mount Olympus.” 

“They are grand,” Horace said, “though I should certainly 
enjoy them more under other circumstances. Fancy that 
being the hill that Jove used to sit on. It would be a grand 
place to climb, wouldn’t it?” 



AT CONSTANTINOPLE 


349 


“ I should be quite content to look at it comfortably from 
the deck of the schooner, Horace, and should have no desire 
whatever to scale it.” 

“Where is the schooner now, do you think, doctor?” 

“Where we left her. They would wait at the village where 
they expected us to be handed over to them till late in the 
afternoon, and then most likely march back to the shore. 
This morning they will be trying to get news of us. It is 
possible that one of the Greeks has taken down the news of 
our capture by the Turks, in hopes of getting a reward. He 
would not know whether we were killed or captured—they 
bolted too fast for that; but if a fellow does take news of the 
fight he will probably offer to show the spot. Martyn will 
take out a strong party, and when he finds the bodies of the 
two Greeks and no signs of us, he will arrive at the conclusion 
that we have been carried off. The Greeks probably recog¬ 
nized the men who attacked them as being a band of Alba¬ 
nians. The white petticoats alone would tell them that; and 
as the Christian Albanians would certainly not be likely to be 
plundering on this side at the present time, they will be sure 
they are Mohammedans either raiding on their own account 
or acting with the Turkish forces in Thessaly. 

“No doubt they will offer a reward for news of us, and will 
probably learn from some peasant or other that a party of 
Albanians crossed the range into Thessaly about mid-day. 
Then when they hear that the pasha’s force was lying in the 
plain, not far from the foot of the hills, they will arrive at the 
truth that we were taken there. What their next step will be 
I cannot say, but I should fancy they will sail round the 
promontory and try and open communication with some small 
village, and get someone to visit the camp and try and pick 
up news of what has become of us. It must be days before 
they can do all this, and by the time they find we have been 
put on board ship we shall be at Constantinople. 

“At any rate, Horace, I regard the idea of there being a 
chance of their rescuing us as out of the question. What they 


350 


IN GREEK WATERS 


will do is, of course, beyond guessing. It is vexing to think 
that if they did but know at the present moment we were 
being put on board ship, they might cut us off at the mouth of 
the Dardanelles. It is little farther from the Gulf of Zeitouni 
than it is from the mouth of this river, and the schooner 
would probably sail twice as fast as any craft we are likely to 
be put on board. It is annoying, but it is of no use being 
annoyed. They don’t know we are going to be embarked, and 
they can’t learn it for four or five days at the very earliest, so 
don’t let us worry about that. We have reasonable cause for 
worry in knowing that we are going to be taken to Constantino¬ 
ple, for not improbably we will be executed when we get there. ” 

“You think that it is probable, doctor? ” 

“ I do, indeed. The Sultan is not the man to stand on 
niceties. He has decided not to give quarter to foreigners 
who fight against him, and as a matter of policy he is perfectly 
right. We knew all along what our fate would be if we fell 
into the hands of the Turks. We have done them an immense 
amount of mischief: we have destroyed a frigate and beaten 
off their boats; we have taken a lot of prizes, and delivered 
some two or three thousand valuable slaves from their hands. 
The only set-off to this is that we assisted to save some three 
hundred Turkish women and children, as to whose fate the 
Sultan was probably perfectly indifferent. The balance is 
very heavy against us.” 

Horace^ could not but admit that this was so, but in this 
beautiful valley, and with Constantinople still in the distance, 
the idea that ere long a violent death might befall him there 
was not sufficiently vivid to depress his spirits greatly. 

After four hours’ riding they came down upon the little port 
at the mouth of the river. Two or three craft were lying 
there under the guns of the battery. 

“That is our vessel, you will see, Horace. It is a man-of- 
war brig. I expect she is placed here on purpose to enable 
the pasha to communicate direct with Constantinople, instead 
of having to send up through the passes to Salonika.” 


AT CONSTANTINOPLE 


351 


Leaving the prisoners under charge of the guard, the officer 
took a boat and rowed off to the brig. In a few minutes a 
large boat lying beside her was manned by a dozen sailors 
and rowed ashore. The officer was on board of her. Two of 
the men who had brought their valises strapped behind their 
saddles had already removed them, and stepped into the boat 
forward, while their comrades took charge of their horses. 
The officer then signed to Horace and the doctor to step on 
board, and they were rowed out to the brig. Half an hour 
later the anchor was got up, the sail set, and the vessel left 
the port. 

There was no attempt at restraint of the prisoners. A 
young lieutenant who spoke Greek informed them, in the 
name of the captain, that the orders of the pasha were that 
they were to be treated as ordinary passengers, and he requested 
them to take their meals with him in the cabin. They would 
be entirely at liberty, except that they would not be allowed 
to land at Tenedos, or at any other port at which the vessel 
might touch. 

The brig proved a fairly fast sailer; the wind was favour¬ 
able, and late on the afternoon of the day after they had sailed 
they dropped anchor off Tenedos, and the officer in charge of 
the captives at once went ashore with the pasha’s letter to the 
governor. He returned late at night, after the prisoners had 
turned in in one of the officers’ cabins that had been vacated 
for their use. There was not a breath of wind in the morning, 
and the captain accordingly did not attempt to weigh anchor. 

“ It would be a fine thing if this calm would last for a fort¬ 
night,” the doctor said as they came on deck in the morning. 

“Yes, but there is no chance of that, doctor. We have 
never had a dead calm for more than three days since we 
came out.” 

“ Well, we might do equally well with a light breeze from 
the north. That would help the schooner across the gulf, 
and at the same time would not enable the brig to work up 
the Dardanelles; there is a strongish current there. Still, I 




352 


IN GREEK WATERS 


am not at all saying it is likely; I only say that I wish it could 
be so.” 

When the officer came on deck he informed them, through 
the lieutenant, that the governor had given him a strong letter 
to the Porte speaking in the highest terms of the humanity 
they had shown towards the Turks they had rescued from 
Athens. An hour later two or three boats came off. Among 
those on board them were several women. When these saw 
the doctor and Horace leaning over the bulwark, they broke 
into loud cries of greeting. 

“ I expect they are some of those poor creatures we brought 
over,” Horace said. “I don’t remember their faces, we have 
had too many on board for that, and I don’t understand what 
they are saying, but it is evidently that.” 

Some of the boatmen understood both Greek and Turkish, 
and these translated the expressions of the women’s gratitude, 
and their regret at seeing him a prisoner. They were not 
allowed to set foot on the brig, but they handed up baskets of 
fruit and sweetmeats. One of the women stood up in the 
boat and in Greek said in low tones to Horace, as he leant 
over the rail: 

“ There are but few of us here, and we are poor. Our hearts 
melted this morning when the news spread that you were pris¬ 
oners on board a ship on her way to Constantinople. We can 
do nothing but pray to Allah for your safety. My husband 
was one of the soldiers you brought over, the one who had 
lost his arm, and who was tended by the hakim , As he was 
of no more use they have discharged him, and he has remained 
here, as I am a native of the island and have many friends. 
He will start in an hour with some fishermen, relations of 
mine. They will land him above Gallipoli, and he will 
walk to Constantinople. Then he will see the bimbashi and 
his former comrades, and find out Osman and Fazli Beys, 
who were with us, and tell them of your being prisoners, so 
that they may use their influence at the Porte, and tell how 
you risked your lives for them, and all— May Allah protect 
you both, effendis / ” 


AT CONSTANTINOPLE 


353 


Her story terminated abruptly, for the captain at this mo¬ 
ment came up and ordered the boat away from the side. 

“What is all that about, Horace?” Macfarlane asked as 
Horace returned the woman’s last salutation with two or three 
words of earnest thanks. “Why, what is the matter, lad? 
there are tears in your eyes*” 

“I am touched at that poor woman’s gratitude, doctor. As 
you can see by her dress she is poor. She is the wife of a 
discharged soldier, that man who lost his arm. You dressed 
the stump, you may remember. I know you said that it had 
been horribly neglected, and remarked what a splendid con¬ 
stitution the Turk had; you thought that had he been an 
Englishman the wound would probably have mortified long 
before.” 

“ Of course I remember, Horace. And has he got over it? ” 

“He has.” And Horace then told him what the woman had 
said. 

“It does one good to hear that,” Macfarlane said when he 
had finished. “Human nature is much the same whether it 
is in the wife of a Turkish soldier or of a Scottish fisherman. 
The poor creature and her husband are doing all they can. 
The bimbashi and the beys were great men in their eyes, and 
they doubtless think that they are quite important persons at 
Constantinople. Still, it is pleasant to think that the poor 
fellow, whose arm must still be very far from healed, is under¬ 
taking this journey to do what he can for us. It minds me of 
that grand story of Effie Deans tramping all the way from 
Scotland to London to ask for her sister’s pardon. 

“I don’t say that anything is like to come of it, but there is 
no saying. If these Turks are as grateful as this soldier and 
his wife they might possibly do something for us, if it were 
not that the Sultan himself will settle the matter. An ordinary 
Turkish official will do almost anything for money or favour, 
but the Sultan is not to be got round; and they say he is a 
strong man, and goes his own way without asking the advice 
of anyone. Still it is, as I said, pleasant to know that there 


354 


IN GREEK WATERS 


are people who have an interest in us, and who are doing 
all in their power to help us.” 

An hour later a small boat was seen to put out from the 
port and to row away in the direction of the mainland. 

For three days the brig lay at her anchorage. Then a gentle 
breeze sprang up from the south. Making all sail, the brig 
was headed to the entrance of the Dardanelles. 

“Unless there is more wind than this,” Horace said, “I 
should hardly think she will be able to make her way up, 
doctor. She is not going through the water more than two 
knots an hour.” 

“No, she will have to anchor again as soon as she is inside 
the straits unless the wind freshens, and I don’t think it is 
likely to do that. To my mind it looks as if it would die out 
again at sunset.” 

This proved to be the case, and before it became dark the 
brig was anchored in a bay on the Asiatic side a short distance 
from the entrance. 

The next morning the breeze again blew, and somewhat 
fresher than before. All day the captain strove to pass up 
the straits. Sometimes by keeping over out of the force of 
the current he made two or three miles, then when they came 
to some projecting point the current would catch the vessel 
and drift her rapidly down, so that when the breeze again sank 
at sunset they had gained only some four miles. Next day 
they were more fortunate and passed the castle of Abydos, 
and the third evening came to anchor off Gallipoli. On the 
following morning the wind blew briskly from the east, and 
in the afternoon they dropped anchor off Constantinople. 

“ Eh, man, but it is a wonderful sight! ” Macfarlane said, 
as they looked at the city with the crenellated wall running 
along by the water’s edge, the dark groves of trees rising 
behind it, and the mosques with their graceful minarets on 
the sky-line. Ahead of them was Pera with its houses cluster¬ 
ing thickly one above the other, and the background of tall 
cypress. Across the water lay Scutari, with its great barracks, 


AT CONSTANTINOPLE 


355 


its mosques, and the kiosks scattered along the shore. Caiques 
were passing backwards and forwards across the water; heavy 
boats with sailors or troops rowing between the ships of war 
and the shore; native craft with broad sails coming up astern 
from Broussa and other places on the Sea of Marmora; pleas¬ 
ure boats, with parties of veiled women rowing idly here and 
there; and occasionally a long caique, impelled by six sturdy 
rowers, would flash past with some official of rank. 

“I have seen many places,” the doctor went on, “butnone 
like this. Nature has done more for Rio, and as much per¬ 
haps for Bombay, but man has done little for either. We 
may boast of our western civilization, and no doubt we can 
rear stately buildings; but in point of beauty the orientals are 
as far ahead of us as we are ahead of the South Sea Islanders. 
Who would think that the Turks, with their sober ways, could 
ever have even dreamed of designing a thing so beautiful as 
that mosque with its graceful outlines. See how well those 
dark cypresses grow with it; it would lose half its beauty were 
it to rise from the round heads of an English wood. 

“Just compare the boats of light-coloured wood all carved 
and ornamented with their graceful lines, and the boatmen in 
their snow-white shirts, with their loose sleeves and bare arms, 
and their scarlet sashes and fezzes with the black tub of an 
English or Scottish river. Look at the dresses of the peasants 
in that heavy boat there, and compare them with those of our 
own people. Why, man, we may be a great nation, intelli¬ 
gent, and civilized, and all that; but when it comes to an 
appreciation of the beautiful we are poor bodies, indeed, by 
the side of the Turk, whom we in our mightiness are accus¬ 
tomed to consider a barbarian. I know what you are going 
to say,” he went on, as Horace was going to speak. “There 
is tyranny and oppression, and evil rule, and corruption, and 
other bad things in that beautiful city. I grant you all that, 
but that has nothing to do with my argument. He may be a 
heathen, he may be ignorant, he may be what we call unciv¬ 
ilized; but the Turk has a grand soul or he never would have 
imagined a dream of beauty like this.” 


356 


IN GREEK WATERS 


As the sun set half an hour after the anchor was dropped the 
officer sent with them by the pasha did not think it necessary 
to land until the following morning, as the offices would all 
be shut. At eight o’clock he was rowed ashore and did not 
return until late in the evening. Business was not conducted 
at a rapid rate in the offices of the Porte. The lieutenant 
interpreted to the prisoners that the letter of the governor of 
Tenedos had been laid before the grand vizier, who would 
deliver it with that of the pasha to the Sultan at his audience 
in the evening. 

“Did he see the grand vizier himself?” Horace asked. 

The answer was in the affirmative. 

“Did he gather from him whether it was likely that the 
Sultan would regard the matter favourably? ” 

The two Turks spoke together for some time. “ I am sorry 
to say,” the lieutenant replied when they had done, “that the 
vizier was of opinion that the Sultan would be immovable. 
He has sworn to spare none of those who have stirred up his 
subjects to rebellion, and who, without having any concern in 
the matter, have aided them against him. He regards them 
as pirates, and has resolved by severity to deter others from 
following their example. The vizier said that he would do 
his best, but that when the Sultan’s mind was once made up 
nothing could move him; and that having himself received 
the reports of the destruction of one of his war-ships, and the 
very heavy loss inflicted on the boats of the fleet at Chios, 
and having, moreover, received memorials from the merchants 
at Smyrna as to the damage inflicted on their commerce by 
what was called the white schooner, he felt that he would be 
deaf to any appeal for mercy to two of her officers.” 

At eight o’clock next morning a boat with twelve soldiers 
and an officer came off to the brig. The officer, mounting 
on the deck, handed to the captain an order for the delivery 
to him of the two prisoners sent from Thessaly. 

“ Things look bad, I am afraid,” Horace said as they stepped 
into the boat. “ I saw the officer exchange a word or two 


AT CONSTANTINOPLE 


357 


with the cavalry man who brought us here and the captain, 
and I am sure, by the expression of their faces, that the news 
was bad. I am sure, too, from the way they shook hands with 
us at parting.” 

“Some of these men’s faces seem familiar to me,” the 
doctor said as they were being rowed towards a landing to the 
east of the palace gardens. “I can’t say that they were 
among the men we brought from Athens, but I have a strong 
idea that two or three of them were. Do you recognize 
them?” 

“I can’t say that I do. You see they were only on board 
one day, and I thought more of the women and children than 
of the soldiers and sailors.” 

“I am almost sure of them, Horace; yet it is curious, that 
if they are the men we saved they did not make some sign of 
recognition when we came down the ladder. Turkish disci¬ 
pline is not very strict. They did not seem to look up much. 
They were all sitting forward of the six oarsmen, and I noticed, 
that till we pushed off they seemed to be talking about some¬ 
thing together, and were so intent on it that they did not look 
up until after we had pushed off. I did notice that the oars¬ 
men looked a little surprised when the officer, as we pushed 
off, gave an order to the man steering, and they saw which way 
the boat’s head was turned. 

“ I don’t suppose they knew that we were prisoners, Horace, 
and were expecting to go back to the place they came from. 
I suppose the landing they are taking us to is the nearest one 
to the prison.” 

There were no boats lying at the broad steps alongside which 
the boat drew up. Six of the soldiers took their places in 
front of them, the officer marched between them, and the 
other six soldiers followed behind. The road, which was a 
narrow one, ran between two very high walls, and rose steeply 
upward. 

“Evidently this landing-place is not much used,” the 
doctor said. “I suppose it leads to some quiet quarter.” 


358 


IN GREEK WATERS 


A hundred yards from the landing-place the officer gave the 
word to halt, and then another order, upon which one of the 
men, who carried a bag, began to open it. 

“Quick, gentlemen! ” the officer said in Greek; “you must 
change here. Quick! there is not a moment to lose.” 

Astonished at the order, the doctor and Horace obeyed it. 

“I suppose,” the former muttered, “they don’t want it 
known they have got two European prisoners. I don’t see 
what else they can be up to.” 

The change was quickly made. Two long baggy Turkish 
trousers were pulled over their own, their jackets were thrown 
into the bag, and they were enveloped in Turkish robes. 
Their caps were thrown beside their jackets, and turbans 
placed on their heads, while their shoes were pulled off and 
their feet thrust into Turkish slippers. The officer and two 
of the soldiers aided in the work, and in a couple of minutes 
the metamorphosis was complete. 

“Allah be praised!” the officer exclaimed fervently; and 
the words were echoed by the soldiers. These for a moment, 
regardless of discipline, gathered round the prisoners. One 
after another seized their hands, and bending over them 
pressed them to their forehead; then the officer gave an order, 
and one or two at a time—the soldiers carried only their side- 
arms—left the group and hurried on ahead, until the officer 
remained alone with the astonished Englishmen. 

“What does this all mean? ” Horace asked the officer in 
Greek. 

“It means that you are free, my friends,” he said, shaking 
each of them cordially by the hand; “at least, so far free. 
,Now let us follow the others.” 

JStill, almost thinking they were dreaming, the doctor and 
Horace accompanied their companion up the narrow lane, 
and emerged into a quiet street behind a great mosque; skirt¬ 
ing the wall of this, they entered a wider street. 

“Be careful,” the officer said in Greek; “walk along care¬ 
lessly, and seem to be conversing with me. ” 


AT CONSTANTINOPLE 


359 


Horace translated the remark to the doctor. 

There were not a great many people about, but as they went 
along the number increased. They crossed a busy street, 
turned down a lane on the other side, and then walked for 
upwards of half an hour, turning frequently, and as far as 
Horace could guess, making a wide detour, and again ap¬ 
proaching the busy part of the town. Presently the officer 
stopped near the corner of a lane in a quiet street, and began 
to talk in an animated tone about the size of the town and 
other matters, until he saw that the street was for a moment 
empty; then he turned sharply down the lane, which ran 
between the backs of two sets of houses, went for a hundred 
yards, and then stopped at a door in the wall; opened it with 
the key, hurried them in, and locked the door behind him. 

“Allah be praised! ” he again said; “you are safe thus far. 
Now come in, they are anxiously expecting us.” 

He entered the house, which stood in a small inclosure, 
and led the way into a room. They were received at the 
door by a Turk, whom both recognized at once as Osman Bey, 
one of the principal Turks they had carried from Athens. He 
repeated the officer’s pious exclamation: 

“Allah be praised for his mercies! ” and then in Greek he 
said, “Truly I am rejoiced, my friends, that Allah has granted 
me an opportunity of showing that I am not ungrateful, and 
that as you saved me and mine from death, so have I been 
able to save you; and I am doubly glad in seeing, what I 
knew not before, that one of you is the son of the Englishman 
to whom principally we owed our escape.” 

“We are grateful, indeed,” Horace said; “but at present 
we understand nothing. This officer has told us nothing 
whatever.” 

“This officer is my son, and is only an officer for the occa¬ 
sion,” Osman Bey said. “But come into the next room; my 
wife and daughters are eagerly expecting you.” 

Three ladies rose from a divan on which they were sitting 
when the bey entered the room. They were lightly veiled, 
'but the bey said: 


360 


IN GREEK WATERS 


“Lay aside your veils. These are as my sons, and you can 
unveil as if they were members of the family.” 

The ladies unveiled. Horace had not seen their faces 
before on board ship, for the women of the upper class had 
remained closely veiled. The mother was a stout, elderly 
woman, with a kindly face. Her daughters were girls of four¬ 
teen or fifteen, with dark hair, somewhat colourless faces, and 
lovely eyes. The bey’s wife expressed her pleasure at the 
arrival of the Englishmen. The girls shrank rather timidly 
behind her, embarrassed at being thus unveiled before stran¬ 
gers. 

“Now sit down,” the bey said. “Zuleika, do you bring 
in coffee and sweetmeats yourself. I do not wish your attend¬ 
ant to enter while these gentlemen are here.” 

“I have sent her down the town on a message,” the bey’s 
wife said, while the younger girl rose and left the room. “ She 
is faithful, but girls will chatter. Mourad, we know, we can 
trust.” 

The girl soon returned with a tray with coffee, cakes, and 
sweetmeats. Then the bey said: 

“Now I will tell you all about this. Ahmed, the sooner 
you get rid of that uniform the better. Give it to Mourad at 
once, and let him take it back to its owner, he may want it.” 

The young man left the room. 

“Now this is how it happened,” the bey began. “Three 
days ago came the messenger from Tenedos. Did you know 
of his being sent hither? ” 

“Yes; his wife told us he was leaving—a soldier who had 
lost his arm.” 

“ That was the man. He went to Hassan Bimbashi, who 
brought him first to Fazli Bey, and then to me. We had a 
consultation. It was clear to us all that it would be intoler¬ 
able that men who had behaved with such humanity to us 
should be put to death, if we could possibly save them. It 
took us a long time to arrange the matter, and we three sat in 
the next room there debating the matter all night. We took 


AT CONSTANTINOPLE 


361 


Ahmed into our council at once, for he was, of course, as 
anxious to aid the men who had saved his parents and sisters 
from massacre as we were. Naturally, we at first thought of 
getting you out of prison by bribing the guards; but though 
this would have been comparatively easy, it was doubtful 
whether there would be time to carry it out. There are sev¬ 
eral prisons here, and there was no saying which you might 
be sent to, or who would be the men in charge of you; there¬ 
fore, time would be needed after you arrived here, and we 
saw that it was probable that no time would be given us. The 
Sultan might, of course, view your case favourably; but, on 
the other hand, if he ordered you to execution, there would 
be no delay. 

“ When a thing has to be done, especially when foreigners 
are in the case, it is better to do it at once; otherwise, the 
Porte would be pestered by the foreign representatives. It 
was agreed, therefore, that if you were to be rescued, it must 
be done between the time of your arrival and your being put 
in prison. We divided the work into four parts. Fazli, who 
has most interest at the Porte, was to try all in his power to 
influence the ministers, and to get the grand vizier to repre¬ 
sent the matter favourably to the Sultan. He was to give us 
the earliest news of whatever decision might be arrived at, 
and above all, he was to get some minor official there to fol¬ 
low the officer to whom the order for bringing you ashore 
should be given. 

“ The soldier who had brought the message from Tenedos 
was to find out a dozen of those who had been rescued with 
us, and to enlist them in the business. The bimbashi under¬ 
took the work of seizing the officer bearing the order. He 
could not very well take the command of the soldiers. Their 
faces would not be noticed by the sailors in the dockyard 
boat, nor by those on board the ship; but Hassan’s would be 
fully seen by both. My son, therefore, volunteered to under¬ 
take this part of the affair, dressed in Hassan’s uniform. He 
was to meet the twelve men at some spot agreed upon, near 


362 


IN GREEK WATERS 


the dockyard gate; to march in with them, produce the order, 
and go out in one of the dockyard boats to the vessel; bring 
you ashore, and lead you here. My part of the business was 
to conceal you as long as necessary, and to arrange for your 
escape from Constantinople. Thus, you see, the risk was 
slight in each case. Fazli would be suspected, because he 
had urged your case at the Porte; but nothing could be proved 
against him. His servants might be examined, and his house 
searched. He would be able to prove that he spent the even¬ 
ing with several of his friends, to whom he gave an entertain¬ 
ment; and this morning, at the time the boat came for you, 
he was to be at the ministry again, trying what could be done 
on your behalf. 

“None of the soldiers would know that the bimbashi was 
mixed up in the affair at all. Their one-armed comrade was 
to be furnished with money in case their gratitude required 
stimulating. My son ran no risk, because it is among the 
officers of the garrison that the search will be made for the 
man who commanded the party. As for myself, there is noth¬ 
ing to connect me in any way with it. Ahmed will take you 
off this evening to a small kiosk of mine ten miles away on 
the coast. The bimbashi’s share was the most dangerous. 
He was to take three men of his regiment on whom he could 
thoroughly rely. They would be three of those he had com¬ 
manded at Athens and who had wives and children who had 
been rescued by you. He was much loved by his soldiers, 
for he lived and starved as they did, and did all in his power 
for their comfort. 

“ It is always dangerous to trust anyone, but in this case 
there was the men’s loyalty to him and their gratitude to you 
to bind them. He would learn from Fazli the hour when the 
Sultan’s decision would be given, and he and the three sol¬ 
diers were to be upon the spot and to watch for the coming 
out of an officer followed by the man Fazli was to appoint. 
The officer was sure to go to one or other of the barracks for 
some soldiers to accompany him to the vessel. It would 


AT CONSTANTINOPLE 


363 


depend upon the hour and the orders he received whether to 
go direct on board or to do it in the morning. It was certain 
the hour would be late, for the conferences with the Sultan 
are invariably in the evening. Whether he went to one of the 
barracks or to his own lodging, he was to be followed until he 
got to some quiet spot, then seized, bound, and gagged, put 
into a large basket two of the soldiers were to carry, and taken 
to some quiet spot outside the walls. To-night, after it is 
dark, Hassan will go up and loose his bonds sufficiently to 
enable him to work himself free after a time. 

“ That was the arrangement at which we arrived after talk¬ 
ing it over for hours. It was the work of the bimbashi and 
Ahmed. I am sure that Fazli and I would never have thought 
of it at all by ourselves. Ever since then we have kept a 
sharp look-out for the vessel. Everything had been got ready. 
The one-armed soldier had got the twelve men ready to go off. 
Hassan said he had made his arrangements, and had found a 
ruined hut half a mile out of the town beyond the walls, where 
there was little chance of anyone looking in in the course of 
the day, and, indeed, if anyone did so after eight o’clock, it 
would make little matter, as you would be ashore by that hour. 
After the brig arrived I had messages from Fazli every hour. 
He told us of the strong letters that had been sent by Ali 
Pasha and the governor of Tenedos, and he brought all his 
influence to bear to aid the representations made by them and 
by the officer who brought you down. 

“ The ministers and the grand vizier were all agreed that 
the kindness shown by those on board the English ship should 
suffice to save your lives, but the Sultan decides for himself, 
and he was known to be so enraged at foreigners joining the 
Greeks in their rebellion against him that they feared nothing 
would move him. Everything, therefore, was prepared for 
the attempt. The twelve soldiers were directed to be at a 
spot near the dockyard at seven in the morning; and the 
bimbashi, with his three men, took up his post near the 
entrance to the ministry. I had nothing to do. At twelve 


364 


IN GREEK WATERS 


o’clock last night Hassan came here, bringing the official 
letter and a suit of his uniform. Everything had gone well. 
The messenger had been seized in a lonely street leading to 
one of the barracks, and was overpowered and silenced before 
he had time to utter a sound. Hassan accompanied the men 
carrying the basket in case by any accident they should be 
questioned, and saw the officer placed, securely bound, in the 
hut. As he had been blindfolded the instant he had been 
seized he could not have seen that his assailants were soldiers. 
Ahmed can tell you the rest.” 

“There is nothing to tell,” the young man said. “I found 
the soldiers waiting at the spot agreed upon, and gave them 
the arranged sign. We went into the dockyard. I showed the 
order, and demanded a large boat, which was at once given 
me. Then I went off to the vessel, where our friends were 
handed over to me without a question; rowed to the wharf; 
the clothes were changed in the lane; and here we are.” 

“ I cannot thank you sufficiently for your kindness, Osman 
Bey, on behalf of myself and my friend here, and express our 
gratitude also to your son, to Hassan Bimbashi, and to Fazli 
Bey. You have indeed nobly repaid the service that my 
father and all of us were glad to have been able to render you.” 

“Do not talk about gratitude,” the bey said. “You saved 
not only us, but our wives and families, and that at the risk 
of your lives, for I expected that the Greeks would fall upon 
you for interfering in their butchery. What you did for us 
was done for strangers against whom you were in arms. What 
we have done for you has been done for our benefactors. 
Therefore let no more be said. My wife and daughters would 
have despised me had I net done all in my power to rescue 
their preservers. Now let us return to the next room, where 
we will have a meal. I think it would be as well, Ahmed, to 
send Mourad at once down to the bridge to hire a caique 
there, and tell him to take it to the next landing to that at 
which you disembarked, and there wait for you. What'do 
you say? ” 


THE “ MISERICORDIA ” AGAIN 


365 


u I think, father, it would be better to go boldly down to 
the bridge and take the boat there. I am sure to see some of 
the men we generally employ, and it will seem natural to 
them that I should be going with two friends up to our kiosk; 
whereas the other way would be unusual, and when inquiries 
are made, as there are sure to be, they might speak of it. But 
I agree with you that it will be as well not to wait until the 
evening. Directly the officer gets free there is sure to be a 
great stir, and there may be janissaries placed at the various 
landings, as it might be supposed the escaped prisoners would 
try to get on board a neutral ship.” 

“Perhaps that would be better, Ahmed. I think they 
might boldly go through the crowd with a little more atten¬ 
tion to their dress.” 


CHAPTER XXI 

THE “MISERICORDIA” AGAIN 

B EFORE starting, the disguises of Horace and the doctor 
were perfected. They were so bronzed by the sun and 
air that their skin was no fairer than that of many Turks of 
the better class; but it was thought as well to apply a slight 
tinge of dye to them, and to darken the doctor’s eyelashes 
and eyebrows with henna. The hair was cut closely off the 
nape of the neck, below the line to which the turban, properly 
adjusted, came down, and the skin was stained to match that 
of their faces. The garments they wore formed part of 
Ahmed’s wardrobe, and only needed somewhat more careful 
adjustment than they had at first received. The ladies came 
up to bid them farewell; but, as it had been arranged that in 
the course of a few days, when inquiry should have ceased, 
the bey, with his wife and daughters, should also proceed to 
their country residence, they would meet again ere long. 



366 


IN GREEK WATERS 


Mourad was to accompany them, and putting a large box on 
his shoulders, filled with changes of clothes and other neces¬ 
saries, he followed them down the street. 

In a short time they were in a busy thoroughfare, the num¬ 
ber of people becoming larger and larger as they went down 
towards the water. Janissaries in their showy uniform swag¬ 
gered along, soldiers of the line, merchants, and peasants, 
while hamals staggering along under enormous burdens swung 
from bamboo poles, made their way, keeping up a constant 
shout to the crowd to clear the road. State functionaries 
moved gravely along on their way to the offices of the Porte. 
Veiled women, with children in their arms or clinging to 
them, stopped to talk to each other in the streets or bargained 
with the traders at the little shops. Military officers and 
Turks of the upper class rode along on showy horses, pranc¬ 
ing and curvetting and scattering the foot passengers right 
and left. 

Ahmed and his companions kept straight on, paying appar¬ 
ently no attention to what was going on around them, Ahmed 
occasionally making a remark in Turkish, the others keeping 
silent. 

When they reached the water-side a number of boatmen 
surrounded Ahmed, who soon found two men whom he had 
frequently employed. The caique was brought alongside. 
Ahmed had already told Horace to step in without hesitation 
with his companion, and to take their seats at the bottom of 
the boat in the stern, while he and Mourad would sit between 
them and the boatmen. The latter took their places, and 
each seized a pair of the sculls. These, which were much 
lighter than the sculls of an English boat, were round with a 
long broad blade. They were not in rollocks, but in a strap 
of leather fastened to a single thole-pin; inside this they 
thickened to a bulk of three or four inches in diameter, nar¬ 
rowing at the extremity for the grip of the hand. This thick 
bulge gave an excellent balance to the sculls, and was ren¬ 
dered necessary by the fact that the boats were high out of 


THE “ MISERICORDIA ” AGAIN 


367 


water, and the length of the sculls outboard disproportionately 
large to that inboard. 

A few vigorous strokes by the rowers sent the boat out into 
the open water. Then the forward oarsman let his sculls hang 
by their thongs alongside, took out four long pipes from the 
bottom of the caique, filled and lighted them, and passed them 
aft to the passengers, and then again betook himself to his 
sculls. Bearing gradually across they reached the other side 
below Scutari, and then kept along the shore at a distance of 
a hundred yards from the land. Ahmed chatted to the oars¬ 
man next to him, and to Mourad, occasionally making some 
remark to the others in Turkish in reference to the pretty 
kiosks that fringed the shore; enforcing what he said by 
pointing to the objects of which he was speaking. They 
assumed an appearance of interest at what he was saying, and 
occasionally Horace, who was next to him, talked to him in 
low tones in Greek, so that the boatman should not catch the 
words, Ahmed each time replying in Turkish in louder tones. 

No class of boatmen in the world row with the vigour and 
strength with which those of the Bosphorus—who are for the 
most part Albanians—ply their sculls, and both Horace and 
the doctor were struck with surprise and admiration at the 
steady and unflagging way in which the men rowed, their 
breath seeming to come no quicker, though the perspiration 
stood in beads on their brown faces and muscular arms, and 
streamed down their swarthy chests, which were left bare by 
the open shirts of almost filmy material of snowy whiteness. # 
Once only in the two hours’ journey did they cease rowing 
and indulge for five minutes in a smoke; after which they 
renewed their labours with as much vigour as when they first 
started. 

“That is the kiosk,” Ahmed said at last, pointing to one 
standing by itself near the water’s edge on a projecting point 
of land, and in a few minutes the caique swept in to the stairs. 
Ahmed had quietly passed a few small silver coins into Hor¬ 
ace’s hand, whispering in Greek: 


368 


IN GREEK WATERS 


“Give them these as you land; an extra tip is always wel¬ 
come.” 

Then he paid the men as he got out, saying to them: 

“ I expect the ladies in a few days. You had better go up 
each morning to the house, and then you can secure the job.” 

Horace dropped the coins into the boatman’s hand, with 
a nod, as he stepped out, and then they walked up to the 
house. The boatmen again lighted their pipes for a smoke 
before starting back on their long row. The kiosk was shut 
up. Mourad opened the door with a key, and threw the 
shutters open. 

“I wonder you leave the place entirely shut up,” Horace 
said. 

“There is nothing to steal,” Ahmed laughed. “A few mats 
for the floors and cushions for the divans. The cooking pots 
and crockery are locked up in a big chest; there is little else. 
There are a few vases for flowers and other ornaments stowed 
away in a cupboard somewhere, but altogether there is little 
to tempt robbers; and, indeed, there are very few of them 
about. The houses are always left so, and it is an almost 
unknown thing for them to be disturbed. You see everything 
is left clean and dusted, so the place is always ready when we 
like to run down for a day or two. The house has not been 
used much lately, for my parents and sisters have been two 
years at Athens, and I have been frequently away at our estates, 
which lie some fifteen miles west of Constantinople. Now 
we will take a turn round, while Mourad is getting dinner 
ready.” 

The latter had brought with him, in addition to the box, a 
large basket containing charcoal, provisions, and several black 
bottles. 

“There is a village half a mile farther along the shore, 
where he will do his marketing to-morrow,” Ahmed had ex¬ 
plained as he pointed to the basket. 

The garden was a rough triangle, two sides being washed 
by the water, while a high wall running across the little prom- 


THE “ MISERICORDIA ” AGAIN 


369 


ontory formed the third side. It was' some sixty or seventy 
yards each way; the house stood nearly in the middle; the 
ground sloped down on either side of it to the water, and was 
here clear of shrubs, which covered the rest of the garden, 
interspersed with a few shady trees. There were seats placed 
under these, and a small summer-house, surrounded on three 
sides by high shrubs but open to the water, stood at the end 
of the point. 

“It is a little bit of a place, as you see,” Ahmed said; “but 
my mother and the girls are very fond of it, and generally 
stay here during the hot season. It is quite secluded, and at 
the same time they have a good view of everything going up 
and down the Sea of Marmora; and if there is any breeze at 
all, it sweeps right through the house.” 

“It is charming,” Horace said. “With a boat here, one 
could not want anything better.” 

“We always have a boat, with two men, while we are here,” 
Ahmed said. “The two men who rowed us have been with 
us two or three seasons. My father often wants to go into 
Constantinople, and I generally go when he does. We usually 
sleep at our house there, and come back the next evening. 
If the ladies want to go out while we are away, they can get a 
caique at the village.” 

After they had taken a turn round the garden they went into 
the house again. The principal room on the ground-floor 
was at the end of the house, and occupied its full width. The 
windows extended entirely round three sides of it, a divan, 
four feet wide, running below them. 

“You see, on a hot day,” Ahmed said, “and with all these 
windows open, it is almost like being in the open air; and 
whichever way the wind is, we can open or close those on 
one side, according to its strength.” 

The ceiling and the wall on the fourth side of the room 
were coloured pink, with arabesques in white. The windows 
extended from the level of the divan up to the ceiling, and 
were of unpainted wood varnished, as was the wood-work of 



370 


IN GREEK WATERS 


the divan. The floor was very carefully and evenly laid, and 
the planks planed and varnished. Beyond two or three little 
tables of green-painted wood, there was no furniture whatever 
in the room. Outside the windows were jalousies or perforated 
shutters, which could be closed during the heat of the day to 
keep the room dark and cool. 

Mourad had already got out the cushions and pillows and 
spread them on the divan; had placed a small iron bowl full 
of lighted charcoal in a low box full of sand in the centre of 
the room, and a brass casket full of tobacco on one of the 
tables. Half a dozen chibouks, with amber mouthpieces and 
cherry or jasmine-wood stems, leant in a corner. 

Three of the pipes were soon filled, and a piece of glowing 
charcoal, taken from the fire with a pair of small tongs lying 
beside it, was placed on each bowl. A few puffs were taken 
to get the tobacco alight, then the pieces of charcoal were 
dropped into the fire again, and shaking off their slippers 
they took their seats on the cushions of the divan. 

“ It is very unfortunate that your friend does not speak 
Greek,” Ahmed began. 

“Yes, it is unfortunate for him,” Horace said as he trans¬ 
lated the remark to Macfarlane. 

“ If I had known that my lot was going to be cast out here,” 
the doctor said, “ I would have insisted on learning modern 
Greek instead of ancient at school—that is, if I could have 
got a dominie who could have taught me. It is a very serious 
drawback, especially when you know that people are talking 
of things that may or may not mean that you are going to get 
your throat cut in an hour or so. For the last two days I 
seem to have been just drifting in the dark.” 

“But I always translate to you as much as I can, doctor.” 

“ You do all that, Horace, and I will say this that you do 
your best; but it is unsatisfactory getting things at second 
hand. One likes to know precisely how things are said. 
However, as matters have gone there is nothing to grumble 
at, though where one’s life is concerned it is a natural weak- 



< i 


WELL, YOUNGSTER, WHAT IS IT 


yy 


















THE “ MISERICORDIA ” AGAIN 


371 


ness that one should like to have some sort of say in the 
matter, instead of feeling that one is the helpless sport of 
fate.” 

Horace laughed, and Ahmed smiled gravely, when he trans¬ 
lated the doctor’s complaint. 

“It comes all the harder to me,” the doctor went on, 
“because I have always liked to know the why and the where¬ 
fore of a matter before I did it. I must confess that since I 
have been in the navy that wish has been very seldom grati¬ 
fied. Captains are not in the habit of giving their reasons to 
their surgeons, overlooking the fact altogether that these are 
scientific men, and that their opinion on most subjects is 
valuable. They have too much of the spirit of the centurion 
of old. They say ‘Do this,’ and it has to be done, ‘You will 
accompany the boats, Dr. Macfarlane,’ or ‘You will not 
accompany the boats.’ I wonder sometimes that, after an 
action, they don’t come down into the cockpit and say, ‘You 
will cut off this leg,’ or ‘This arm is not to be amputated.’ 
The highness-and-mightiness of a captain in His Majesty’s 
navy is something that borders on the omnipotent. There is 
a maxim that the king can do no wrong; but a king is a poor 
fallible body in comparison with a captain.” 

“Well, I don’t think you have anything to complain of with . 
Martyn,” Horace laughed. 

“Martyn is only an acting-captain, Horace, and it is not 
till they get the two swabs on their shoulders that the dignity 
of their position makes itself felt. A first lieutenant begins, 
as a rule, to take the disease badly, but it is not till he gets 
his step that it takes entire possession of him. I have even 
known a first lieutenant listen to argument. It’s rare, lad, 
very rare, but I have known such a thing; as for a captain, 
argument is as bad as downright open mutiny. Well, this is 
a comfortable place that we have got into, at least in hot 
weather, but I should say that an ice-house would be prefer¬ 
able in winter. These windows don’t fit anyhow, and there 
would be a draft through them that would be calculated to 


IN GREEK WATERS 


establish acute rheumatism in the system in the course of 
half an hour.” 

“The house is not used at all in winter,” Ahmed said, when 
he understood the nature of the doctor’s criticisms. “Almost 
all the kiosks along here belong to people in the town, and 
are closed entirely for four months of the year. We are fond 
of warmth, and when the snow is on the ground, and there is 
a cold wind blowing, there would be no living here in any 
comfort.” 

Six days passed. Ahmed went once to Constantinople to 
learn what was going on. He brought back news that the 
escape of the two English prisoners had caused a great sensa¬ 
tion at the Porte, that all the officers in the regiments there 
had been paraded in order that the boatmen and the officers 
of the brig might pick out. the one who had brought off the 
order, but that naturally no one had been identified. The 
soldiers had also been inspected, but as none of these had 
been particularly noticed by the boatmen, the search for those 
engaged had been equally unsuccessful. Fazli Bey had been 
severely interrogated, his servants questioned, and his house 
searched, But nothing had been found to connect him in any 
way with the escape. A vigilant watch had been set upon 
every European ship in port, and directions had been sent 
that every vessel passing down the straits was to bring-to off 
the, castles, and to undergo a strict search. 

Ahmed said that his father had heard from Fazli Bey that 
while the Sultan was furious at the manner in which the pris¬ 
oners had been released, it was against those who had taken 
part in it that his anger was principally directed, and that it 
was thought he was at heart not altogether sorry that the two 
men who had befriended the Turks at Athens had got off, 
although he would not have wavered in his own expressed 
determination to put to death without exception all foreigners 
who had aided the Greeks. “ My father has not at present 
thought of any plan for getting you away, ” Ahmed said. “ The 
search is too rigorous, and no master of a vessel would dare 


THE “ MISERICORDIA ” AGAIN c "3 

to carry you off; but in a short time the matter will be for¬ 
gotten, and the search in the port and in the Dardanelles will 
be slackened. It causes a great deal of trouble and incon¬ 
venience, and the officials will soon begin to relax their efforts. 
It is one of our national characteristics, you know, to hate 
trouble. My father will be here with the others in a couple of 
days, and then we will hold a council over it.” 

The next day a boat arrived with carpets and hangings for 
the rooms upstairs, which were entirely devoted to the females 
of the household; and on the following evening Osman Bey, 
with his wife and daughters, arrived in the same caique that 
Ahmed had come in, two female servants with a quantity of 
luggage coming in another boat. The next few days passed 
very pleasantly. The ladies took their meals apart upstairs, 
but at other times sat in the room below, treating Horace and 
the doctor as if they were members of the family. There 
were many discussions as to the best method of effecting their 
escape, and Ahmed went twice to Constantinople to ascertain 
whether the search for them was being relaxed. 

At last he and his father agreed that it w r ould be the best 
plan for them to go to Izmid, and to take a passage from there 
if some small craft could be found sailing for Chios, or one 
of the southern ports or islands. Ahmed was to accompany 
them, and was first to go to Izmid to make the necessary 
arrangements. He knew many merchants in the port, and as 
some of these were intimate friends they would probably be 
disposed to assist those who had rendered so great a service 
to Osman Bey and his family, but at the same time Ahmed 
said: “You must not be impatient. The news of your being 
carried off by sham soldiers, as they say, after their having 
assaulted and robbed the officer who was bearer of the order 
for your delivery, has made a great talk, and I shall have to 
be very careful as to how I open the subject.” 

“Pray run no risks,” Horace said. “You have all done so 
already, and we should be unhappy, indeed, were any ill- 
fortune to befall you or your family for what you have done 


374 


IN GREEK WATERS 


for us. We are very comfortable here. I would much rather 
wait for some really favourable opportunity than hazard your 
safety, to say nothing of our own, by impatience. It is but 
a fortnight since we made our escape.” 

“I am going up the Bosphorus to-morrow,” Ahmed said. 
“I have to see a bey whose property adjoins ours, and who 
has a kiosk some distance above Scutari. It is only a ques¬ 
tion of business, and I shall not be many minutes. I shall be 
glad if you will go with me;«you can remain in the boat. 
The rowers are so accustomed to see you that they can have 
no curiosity about you; besides, now that they are regularly 
in our service, and sleep and live here, there is no one for 
them to gossip with, and, indeed, as we are good patrons of 
theirs I do not think they would say anything about you, 
whatever they might suspect.” 

“I suppose you can take us both, Ahmed? ” 

“Certainly I meant that, of course. Your friend would find 
it dull indeed alone here.” 

Accordingly the next morning they started. When they 
neared Scutari they saw on the other side of the water a brig 
making her way in from the Dardanelles. 

“That is a slovenly-looking craft, doctor, with those dirty 
ill-fitting sails; rather a contrast that to our schooner. I 
wonder where she is and what she is doing. That brig is 
about her size too, and the hull is not unlike hers, looking at 
it from here.” 

The doctor gazed at the craft intently. “Eh, man,” he 
said in low tones, grasping his companion’s arm tightly, “I 
believe that it is our craft, Horace.” 

“What, that dirty looking brig, doctor, with her sides look¬ 
ing as rusty as if she had not had a coat of paint for the last 
year!” 

“It’s the schooner disguised. It is easy enough, lad, to 
alter the rig, and to get hold of dirty sails and to dirty the 
paint, but you can’t alter the shape. No Greek, or Turk 
either, ever turned out the hull of that brig.” 


THE “ MISERICORDIA ” AGAIN 


375 


“It is marvellously like the schooner,” Horace said. “I 
should almost have sworn that it was her.” 

“ It is the schooner, lad. How she got there, and what she 
is doing, I don’t know, but it is her.” 

“What is it?” Ahmed asked. “What is there curious in 
that brig that you are so interested in her?” 

“We both think it is our schooner, Ahmed; the one in 
which we took your father and mother from Athens in.” 

“That!” Ahmed exclaimed incredulously; “why, my sis¬ 
ters were always saying what a beautiful vessel it was, with 
snow-white sails.” 

“So she had, Ahmed; but if it is the schooner she is dis¬ 
guised altogether. They have taken down her top-masts and 
put those stumpy spars in instead; they have put up yards and 
turned her into a brig; they have got sails from somewhere 
and slackened all her ropes, and made her look dirty and 
untidy; still we both think that it is her. Please tell the 
boatmen to cross to the vessel and row alongside.” 

Ahmed gave the order, and as the caique shot away from 
the shore said: “But how could it be your ship? Do you 
think that she has been captured ? If not, she could not have 
ventured up here.” 

“She has not been captured,” Horace said confidently, “and 
if she had been her captors would not have taken the trouble 
to spoil her appearance. If that is the schooner they have 
come up to make inquiries about us, and to try to rescue us 
if possible.” 

It was fully two miles across, and as they approached the 
brig the doctor and Horace became more and more convinced 
that they were not mistaken. 

“Please tell the men to pull in behind her,” Horace said, 
“so that we can see her better. There can be no mistake 
about her if we can catch a sight of her fore and aft.” 

When they fell into the brig’s wake they were some three 
hundred yards astern of her, and the last vestige of doubt dis¬ 
appeared as they saw her great breadth and fine run. 


37 G 


IN GREEK WATERS 


“That is my father’s craft, Ahmed, I could swear to her 
now. Will you tell the men to row up alongside.” 

There were only four or five men visible on deck in the 
ordinary dress of Turkish sailors. As the caique came along¬ 
side a man put his head over the rail and asked in Turkish 
“what they wanted? ” 

“We want to come on board,” Ahmed said; “we have 
business with the captain.” 

“ I am the captain,” the man said; “are you one of the port 
officers? ” 

“Drop astern to the chains,” Ahmed said to the boatmen, 
who were hanging on by a boat-hook. They let the caique 
fall aft her own length, and then, seizing the shrouds, the 
doctor and Horace sprang up on to the chains and then leapt 
on board, Ahmed following them more slowly. There was no 
doubt that it was the schooner, though her decks were covered 
with dirt and litter, and the paint of her bulwarks discoloured 
as if they had been daubed with mud which had been allowed 
to dry. The sailors looked up as if in surprise at the sudden 
appearance of the strangers on their deck. Horace glanced 
at them. He knew none of their faces. 

“Well, sir,” the captain said, coming up, “may I again ask 
what you want with us? ” 

“You talk to him, Ahmed,” Horace said in Greek. “We 
will run below; ” and at a bound he was at the top of the 
companion and sprang down into the cabin. “Father,” he 
shouted, “are you here?” 

The door of the main cabin opened, and a Turk with a 
flowing white beard made his appearance. 

“My dear father, is it you? ” 

“Why, Horace, Horace, my dear boy, where do you come 
from, what miracle is this?” And in a moment they were 
clasped in each other’s arms. A moment later a tall Nubian 
rushed out and seized Horace’s hand. 

“Why, Martyn, you don’t mean to say it is you in this dis¬ 
guise?” 


THE “ MISERICORDIA ” AGAIN 


377 


“It is indeed, Horace. I am delighted to see you, lad; 
and you too, doctor. I had never thought to clap eyes on 
you again; ” and he shook hands heartily with Macfarlane, as 
also did Mr. Beveridge. 

“I seem to be in a dream,” the latter said; “how do you 
come here, what has happened?” 

“I may say the same, father; but first, where are Miller, 
Tarleton, and the crew?” 

“They are all down in the hold,” Martyn said; “they are 
all in hiding.” 

“I have a friend on deck, father; he is the son of one of 
the Turks we saved at Athens. He and his friends saved our 
lives, and have been concealing us since they got us away. I 
expect he is having some difficulty with the man who calls 
himself captain.” 

“Come up with me then, Horace, and we will fetch him 
down; and I will tell Iskos that it is all right.” 

As soon as they reached the deck Mr. Beveridge explained 
to the supposed captain that these were the friends he had 
come to find, and that all was well. 

Martyn had also come up. “ What had we better do now, 
Martyn?” 

Martyn looked up at the sails, and at the water, “Fortu¬ 
nately the wind is dying out fast,” he said. “I don’t think 
we are making way against the current now, and we shall cer¬ 
tainly not do so long. Hold on a few minutes longer, Iskos, 
and then anchor. It will seem as if we could not get up 
against the stream to the other shipping. If you see a boat 
coming off, let us know. They will probably be sending off 
to look at our papers; but perhaps they may not trouble about 
it till we get up to the regular anchorage. Now, Mr. Bever¬ 
idge, we will go down below and gladden their hearts there.” 

The main-deck was filled with casks, bales, and merchan¬ 
dise of all sorts, and the hatchways of the hold covered with 
sacks of flour. Macfarlane joined them, and aided Martyn 
and Horace in removing the sacks. Horace saw as he did so 


378 


IN GREEK WATERS 


that what appeared a solid pile was really hollow, and that the 
hatchway was only partially closed so as to allow a certain 
amount of air to pass down below. The bags were but partly 
removed when there was a rush from below, Miller and Tarle- 
ton with their cutlasses in hand, followed by the sailors with 
boarding-pikes dashed through the opening. They paused in 
astonishment upon seeing only Martyn, Mr. Beveridge, and 
three Turkish gentlemen, but as they recognized Horace and 
the doctor, the officers threw down their swords and with a 
shout of joy seized them by the hand. The sailors close 
behind them broke into a cheer which swelled into a roar as 
the men below gathered the news that their two officers had 
returned. 

“The men can come up between decks, Miller,” Martyn 
said. “ Let them have a stiff ration of grog all round. Boat¬ 
swain, see that the sacks are piled again as before, leaving two 
or three out of their place to allow the men to go down again 
if necessary. If the word is passed that a boat is coming off, 
let them hurry back again and replace the sacks carefully after 
them as they go down.” 

The sailors continued pouring up through the hatchway, 
and behind them came the two Greeks, whose joy at seeing 
Horace was excessive. 

“Now,” Mr. Beveridge said, “let us adjourn to the cabin 
and hear all about this wonderful story.” 

On entering the main cabin Horace found that its appear¬ 
ance, like that of the rest of the ship, had been completely 
altered, all the handsome fittings had been removed, and the 
whole of the woodwork painted with what he thought must 
have been a mixture of white paint and mud, so dirty and 
dingy did it appear. 

“Now, father, in the first place I must properly introduce 
my friend Ahmed to you all. He is the son of Osman Bey, 
who was one of the principal Turks of the party we took to 
Tenedos, as no doubt you remember; it is to him and his 
father, aided by Fazli Bey, and the bimbashi who was in com- 



THE DOCTOR TELLS THE STORY 
























' 
































■ , St ■ '•ill 























* 









THE “ MISERICORDIA ” AGAIN 


379 


mand of the troops, and some of the soldiers, that we owe our 
lives.” 

This was said in Greek, and while Mr. Beveridge was ex¬ 
pressing his gratitude to Ahmed, Horace repeated the same 
in English to the three officers, who warmly shook hands with 
the young Turk. Marco and his brother placed refreshments 
of all kinds on the table. 

Ahmed partook of them sparingly, and then said to Horace: 
“Of course you will not be returning with me now. I think 
I had better be going on, it will be dark before I have done 
my business and get back again; and besides, the boatmen 
will be wondering at my long stay here.” 

“I am afraid your father will think us horribly ungrateful 
if we go off without thanking him and your mother for all 
their kindness to us,” Horace said; “but of course we must 
be getting out of this as soon as we can.” 

“My father and mother will be delighted to hear that you 
have so suddenly and unexpectedly got out of your difficul¬ 
ties,” Ahmed said, “and that in a manner from which no 
suspicion can possibly arise to us. What we have done has 
been but a small return for the service you rendered us.” 

Mr. Beveridge added his warmest thanks to those of Hor¬ 
ace, and Ahmed then went up with the others on to the deck 
and took his place in the caique; Horace making a present of 
a small gold piece to each of the boatmen. Ahmed said 
good-bye to him and the doctor in Turkish, expressing the 
hope that when they got back to Cyprus they would write to 
him, a message that Iskos afterwards translated to Horace. 
As soon as he had rowed away the rest of them returned to the 
cabin. 

“And now for the story,” Mr. Beveridge said as they took 
their places round the table. 

“The doctor shall tell it,” Horace Said. “He has had no 
chance of talking for the last fortnight, and it is only fair he 
should have his turn now.” 

The doctor accordingly, in his slow and deliberate way, 


380 


IN GREEK WATERS 


related the whole story of their adventures from the time they 
landed from the schooner until their return on board, a narra¬ 
tion which lasted nearly two hours. 

Then Martyn related what had happened on board since. 
“You know,” he said, “that directly we heard the firing on 
shore and saw the boat rowing off we began to get ready to 
send a strong party off. You can imagine how horrified we 
were when, on the boat coming alongside, we found you .were 
both missing. The beggars fired away at us as we rowed 
ashore, but they bolted before we reached it, and when we 
made a rush into the village, it was empty. We could find no 
one to ask questions of, for, as we found afterwards, they had 
all made off while the brigands were firing at us. However, 
as there were no signs of you it was evident the only thing to 
do was to follow the ruffians, and off we set. We chased 
them four miles, but they scattered directly they left the vil¬ 
lage and we only came up with two of them. Unfortunately 
they showed fight, and the sailors cut them down before we 
could come up. 

“ After searching about for some time we thought the best 
plan was to go back to the village. There we quartered our¬ 
selves among the houses, and, as you have been telling us, the 
man came with a letter. We noticed how you had worded it 
and had underscored the names, and we saw the fellows did 
not know that you were the son of the owner, so your father 
pretended to hang back for a bit. As soon as the man had 
gone off with the message we thought that it was all right, and 
everyone was in the highest spirits. Of course there was noth¬ 
ing to do next day, but the following morning Mr. Beveridge 
and Miller went off with thirty men, as the time named for 
giving you up was one o’clock. 

“We began to expect them back at four, and as the hours 
went on I was in a regular stew. I did not like to land, and 
as I had only twenty men I was afraid of weakening her fur¬ 
ther, as we should have been in an awkward fix if a Turkish 
man-of-war had come along; however, at nine o’clock I sent 


THE “ MISERICORDIA ” AGAIN 


381 


Tarleton ashore with five men to see if he could gather some 
news from the villagers, who had all come back again soon 
after the brigands had left. It was not till after eleven 
o’clock that he came off, with the news that the party had 
returned and had heard nothing of you. 

“Next morning one of the boats came off with Mr. Bever¬ 
idge. Half an hour before a Greek had come in and stated 
that he was one of the party bringing you down to the place 
agreed upon when they were suddenly fired upon from a wood. 
Two of the party fell dead and the rest ran and were hotly 
pursued for some distance. He was unable to say what had 
become of you, nor did he know who the men were who had 
attacked them, except that they were certainly Albanians. We 
held a council, and then I started off with Tarleton and ten men 
and Marco. Mr. Beveridge wanted to go, but I persuaded 
him not to, for it was morally certain that we should not find 
you, and all we could hope for was to get some sort of clue, 
and if the Albanians were still in the neighbourhood Marco 
would have opened negotiations with them for a ransom. The 
man who had brought the news acted as guide. We found 
the bodies of his comrades who had been killed, but no signs 
of you, which was a comfort in one way. It was pretty evi¬ 
dent that you had both been carried off. 

“We had taken with us a dozen men from the village to 
which you were to have been sent, and we offered what to them 
must have been a big reward for news as to these Albanians. 
So after finding the bodies we sent them off in different direc¬ 
tions, and went back to their village. Late in the evening 
they straggled in. They had done their work well, spreading 
all over the country and getting hold of shepherds and char¬ 
coal-burners and wood-cutters; and they were able to tell us 
for certain that the Albanians had come over the range of hills 
between us and Thessaly. They had been doing a good deal 
of plundering and some murdering, had destroyed two small 
villages at the foot of the mountains, and had been seen soon 
after the hour at which you must have been captured making 


382 


IN GREEK WATERS 


their way back. They assured us that the troops of Ali Pasha 
lay in the plain beyond the hills, and that, doubtless, the 
Albanians had taken you to him. We had a good long rest in 
the afternoon, and as I knew what a state of anxiety your 
father was in we started at once and got on board at four 
o’clock in the morning. We had a long talk over what was 
the best thing to be done, and resolved at any rate to sail out 
of the bay and round the Cape, and then keep along the coast 
until we were off Thessaly. 

“As soon as it was daylight we weighed anchor. The wind 
was so light that it took us two days to get there, and half 
that time at least, I should say, the men were in the boats 
towing. Marco had volunteered to land and make his way to 
the Turkish camp to try to find out what had become of you. 
We landed him at night; he bought from some of the villagers 
a suit of their clothes, and in twenty-four hours came down 
again to the boat we had sent ashore for him with the news 
that you had been sent to Constantinople; that you had been 
taken by an escort of cavalry down to the little port at the 
mouth of the river that flows in between Ossa and Olympus; 
that he had seen some of the soldiers who formed your escort, 
who told him that they had seen you go on board a Turkish 
brig-of-war with their officer and two of their comrades who 
had accompanied you. 

“This was horrible news, and as the brig had got four days’ 
start there was little chance of our catching her. For another 
three days we were almost becalmed. We had every stitch of 
canvas set and yet most of the time we had not even steerage¬ 
way. The men behaved splendidly, and all the time, day and 
night, we had two boats out ahead towing; and on the fourth 
day we arrived off Tenedos. Then we got a breeze again, and 
soon afterwards picked up a fishing-boat. From them we 
learned that the brig had lain becalmed two days off the town, 
that some of the people that we brought from Athens had gone 
out with little presents of fruit to you and had seen you. 

“We anchored that night a short distance from the town, 


THE “ MISERICORDIA ” AGAIN 


383 


for there were no Turkish ships of war there. At night a boat 
came off with a woman whom we had brought from Athens, 
and she told us that her husband, a discharged soldier, had 
gone to Constantinople to tell some of the people whom we 
brought from Athens that two of our officers had been capt¬ 
ured, and to ask them to do what they could to save your 
lives. We did not think anything of it, though of course it 
was pleasant to see that some of the people were grateful, and 
Mr. Beveridge made her a handsome present, which I will do 
her the justice to say she refused until he almost had to force 
it upon her. Knowing how bitter the Sultan is against for¬ 
eigners in the Greek service, and that after the harm we had 
done he was not likely to be specially well disposed towards 
us, the thing seemed almost hopeless. The two Greeks vol¬ 
unteered if we would put them ashore to the west of the straits 
to make their way to Constantinople, but as it did not seem 
to us that they could do any good that idea was given up. 

“At last Tarleton proposed that we should disguise the 
schooner and go up ourselves. He admitted that the betting 
was a hundred to one against our being able to help you in 
any way, especially as it was almost certain you would have 
been hung a few hours after you got there. Still, if that had 
been put off, and you should be in a prison, there was just the 
possibility we might land at night, make our way to the prison, 
blow in the gate, get you out, and make our way across the 
country to some place where the boats would be waiting for 
us, and be on board before daylight. It was certainly a des¬ 
perate undertaking, but as none of us could think of any other 
plan, we agreed it would be well to try it, so we sailed at once 
to Athens. 

“We had a great debate whether it would not be better to 
buy some Turkish brig that had been brought in as a prize; 
but we finally agreed to stick to the schooner, for if we were 
discovered on the way, or if we did get you on board, we 
should have to sail, and we knew that nothing the Turks have 
got could outsail the schooner. We worked hard at Athens. 


384 


IN GREEK WATERS 


We sent down the tall spars, got those clumsy polesnp in their 
place, got up yards, and turned her into a brig. Then we 
bought a lot of old sails, and, as you see, turned her into as 
lubberly-looking a craft as you will meet even in these seas. 
Then we filled her up between decks with goods we bought 
out of some prizes brought in by the Hydriots, dirtied her 
decks, threw acid down her sides to take off the paint, took 
down the cabin fittings, as you see, and daubed over the wood¬ 
work with dirty paint. It was enough to make one cry to see 
the Misericordia spoilt. It was like disguising a girl of fash¬ 
ion as a dirty gipsy. 

“While we had been at this work the two Greeks had been 
on shore, and had gathered up eight men who spoke Turkish 
as well as Greek. The most intelligent we made captain, with 
two officers under him. We got the papers from a Turkish 
prize, a brig about the same size which had been captured by 
the Hydriots on her way from Rhodes to Constantinople. 
Then it was agreed that your father should disguise himself as 
a Turk, a respectable land-owner of Rhodes, going as a pas¬ 
senger to Constantinople, with myself as his Nubian servant. 
That way we could stay on deck. When all was ready we 
started. The crew kept on deck till we got near the Darda¬ 
nelles, and then stowed themselves away in the hold as you 
saw. We were stopped at the castle, but as the papers were 
all right there was no suspicion excited, and nothing happened 
till Iskos came down and told us a caique was coming along¬ 
side, and then a minute or two later we heard your voice.” 


ALL ENDS WELL 


385 


CHAPTER XXII 

ALL ENDS WELL 

THE hours passed on. It was still a dead calm, and, as 
1 Martyn had thought likely, no visit was paid by the Turk¬ 
ish port officials, as the brig was lying a good mile below the 
usual anchorage, and would no doubt move up to the wharves 
as soon as she got the wind. Horace went to the main deck 
and gave a sketch of his adventures to Tom Burdett, who he 
knew would retail them to the crew. 

“Well, Mr. Horace,” the boatswain said, “you are cer¬ 
tainly a good one at getting out of scrapes.” 

“ I had nothing to do with getting out of it, Tom; it was 
all done without any effort on my part.” 

“ It was mighty well done, sir, and I would not have given 
them Turks credit for putting such a plan together. I always 
liked the chaps myself when I served with them as a young 
fellow in that Egyptian business under Abercrombie. Good- 
natured sort of coves they was, and wonderful good-tempered 
considering what shocking bad grub they had; but I never 
looked upon them as sharp. Still, there you are; you see, one 
never knows what a chap can do till he is pushed. Well, 
there is one thing, Mr. Horace, I don’t care how many Turk¬ 
ish fugitives we may take on board this ship in future, they 
will be heartily welcome by every man Jack on board for the 
sake of what these fellows did for you. I wish I had known 
it when you first came on board. I should have liked to 
have given that young Turk a hearty shake of the hand, and 
the men would have given him as good a cheer as ever you 
heard come from fifty British sailors.” 

“It is just as well, you didn’t know, Tom, for if they had. 
given a cheer together on deck it would have been heard from 
shore to shore, and everyone who heard it would have known 
that it never came from Turkish throats, ” 


386 


IN GREEK WATERS 


As soon as it was dark the anchor was weighed, and the ves¬ 
sel drifted down with the current, a boat towing ahead so as 
to give her steerage-way, while the rest of the crew set to work 
to unbend her sails. 

“You are not going to put up her own sails, are you, Cap¬ 
tain Martyn?” Horace asked, for as soon as it got dusk 
Martyn had removed the stain from his skin, and exchanged 
the Nubian attire for his uniform. 

“No, Horace, the white sails would tell their tale at once. 
We got two suits at Athens, one that miserable lot you saw 
on us to-day, the other we had cut up to fit us as we are sparred 
now. They are not very clean, but that won’t affect her 
sailing, and though I don’t mean to say she will walk along 
as she would under her proper canvas, I fancy she is likely to 
sail as fast as anything we shall meet. I shall only get her 
foresail, a jib, and that square top-sail on her, as we want to 
go along as slowly as possible. I want to manage to anchor 
below Gallipoli after sunset; or if I can’t manage that I shall 
anchor a mile or two this side of the town, so as not to be 
visited by any of the port officers. Then when it gets quite 
dark we will get up all sail and run down the straits. It is 
against the rules to pass through at night, and if the forts 
catch sight of us no doubt they will send a few shots after us, 
but we must risk that. It is not easy to hit a moving mark 
when it is so dark that you can scarcely see her outline. There 
are half a dozen of their ships-of-war lying abreast of the forts. 
We must keep as far as we dare over on the other shore. I 
am not afraid of the ships. We shall be a mile away before 
the crews wake up and load, but I expect they keep a pretty 
sharp look-out in the forts, though most likely their attention 
is chiefly directed below them.” 

It took a couple of hours’ work to unbend all the sails and 
bend on fresh ones. Horace spent the evening in the cabin 
chatting with his father, and when the others came down at 
ten o’clock for a glass of grog he heaM that the boat had been 
run up and housed, and that the brig was now under easy sail. 


ALL ENDS WELL 


387 


“There is very little wind,” Martyn said, “but there is 
enough to give steerage-way. I shall not count you in for 
duty until to-morrow.” 

“ Oh, I am ready to take my watch as usual. I have been 
living a very lazy life for the last three weeks, and shall be 
very glad to be on duty again.” 

“I shall get the guns up the first thing in the morning, 
Miller. We will throw a tarpaulin over them when we get 
into the narrow part of the straits.” 

“Will you have the pivot-gun up too? ” 

“Yes, I think so; if we have to fight, we may as well fight 
as hard as we can. When we get it mounted we can put a few 
barrels along each side of it, cover the whole over with a sail¬ 
cloth, and stow one of the gigs at the top of all. No one 
would have a suspicion that there was a gun there then, and 
if we wanted to use it we could clear it in a minute.” 

“The Turkish custom-house officers will stare in the morn¬ 
ing when they see the brig gone,” Miller said, “and will 
wonder what has become of her.” 

“ If they think of her at all, Miller, they will think she has 
got up sail at daylight and gone up the Bosphorus on her way 
to Varna or one of the Black Sea ports.” 

“ It would require a good deal more breeze than there is 
now.” 

“Yes, I did not think of that. Well, then, perhaps they 
will suppose that we made a try to go up to the anchorage as 
soon as the day began to break, but simply drifted back. You 
see another half a mile astern would take us round that point 
there and out of sight of them. However, we don’t care much 
what they think. They are not likely to be interested enough 
in the matter to bother themselves about it one way or the 
other, and certainly not likely to do the only thing that would 
be of any consequence to us, I mean send down a messenger 
to Gallipoli telling them to overhaul us if we came down the 
straits. Now, then, the watch on deck; the others turn in. I 
am sure, Mr. Beveridge, you will be all the better for a quiet 


388 


IN GREEK WATERS 


night’s rest. You have certainly not slept much for the last 
month, and you have been getting thinner and thinner daily, 
while you have also long arrears in the way of food to make 
up. It has been quite pitiful to see the faces of the Greeks 
as you sent away plate after plate untouched.” 

“ I shall soon be myself again, Martyn, and even one good 
night’s rest will, I am sure, do wonders for me.” 

“We have been getting quite uneasy about your father,” 
Miller said as he and Horace went up on deck for the middle 
watch. 

“Yes, he looks sadly broken down, Miller. Directly he 
had taken off that beard I was quite shocked; he looks years 
older.” 

“We have been really anxious about him. He would turn 
up three or four times during the night watches and walk the 
deck for an hour or two talking to one or other of us as if he 
could not stop alone in his cabin. Neither Martyn nor I ever 
had the slightest idea of finding you were alive when we got 
here, and still less of getting you out. But when Tarleton 
proposed disguising the schooner and coming up, he caught 
at the idea so eagerly that we fell in with it at once. It 
seemed to us both rather a, mad sort of business, but we should 
not have cared what it was so that it would but rouse him up; 
for from the time when we first got word that you had been 
taken to the Turks, till Tarleton made that proposal at Tene- 
dos, he had scarcely spoken a word. He cheered up for an 
hour or two when Marco brought news that at any rate you 
had not been killed at Ali Pasha’s camp, but had been sent 
on to Constantinople; but that lasted for a very short time, 
for he soon saw that so far from improving your chances, it 
had lessened them. Ali might have taken a handsome sum 
for your ransom, or your guards might have been bribed; 
anyhow, there would have been a much better chance of get¬ 
ting you away from his camp than from a prison in Constan¬ 
tinople. 

“ Of course we did all we could to cheer him, and, I am 


ALL ENDS WELL 


389 


afraid, told some awful crammers as to the easy job it would 
be to get you out. Still, the plan did do, him good. It gave 
him something to think about, as at Athens we were constantly 
thinking of something or other that he could go ashore and 
see about. Since we sailed from there he has been in a sort 
of fever, walking restlessly about the deck, going down to the 
cabin and coming up again twenty times every hour, worrying 
about the wind, and complaining at the boat’s loss of speed. 
He took to Tarleton most, because he was nearest your age, 
I think. He talked to him several times about you as a child, 
and seemed specially unhappy because he had seen so little 
of you up to the time when he bought you that first craft you 
had. The two Greeks were terribly concerned about him. 
They are two fine fellows those. They were as gentle as wo¬ 
men. Well, it has been an anxious time for us all. Even the 
men have felt for him, and it was quite curious to see how 
silent the ship became when he was on deck. They seemed to 
speak almost in whispers, and I have not heard a laugh for¬ 
ward from the hour that you and the doctor were missed. I 
was glad he was taken with you, for he is a good fellow, and 
it was a comfort to know that you were together.” 

“It was a great pull,” Horace agreed. “He was just the 
same all the time as he is on board, quiet and slow in his talk, 
but with an occasional gleam of humour. It has been rather 
hard on him, too, because, from the day we first landed, there 
has always been someone with us who could speak Greek, and 
it is very slow for a man sitting listening to talk that he can’t 
understand, waiting for bits to be translated to him. Still, he 
never showed that he minded.” 

“Yes, that must have been very annoying,” Miller agreed, 
“ especially when the talk was about matters that concerned 
his life. It makes you feel so helpless and baby-like to have 
everything managed for you and to be able to do nothing 
yourself. I don’t think he took kindly to that Turkish dress. 
He slipped away and changed it before he had been on board 
five minutes, while you kept yours on till you turned in for a 
nap two hours ago.” 


390 


IN GREEK WATERS 


“ I was comfortable enough, and never gave the clothes a 
thought after I had worn them an hour or two,” Horace 
laughed. “ Of course one felt very baggy about the legs, and 
I certainly should not like to go aloft in the things. No 
wonder the Turks are such clumsy sailors with their legs in 
bags like that; but I did notice that the doctor never seemed 
to move about naturally. I expect if he could have talked 
away as I did he would not have thought of them so much. 
The wind is heading us a bit.” 

“Yes, it is; ” and Miller gave the orders for the sheets and 
braces to be hauled aft. 

“ I should not be surprised if it is in the south by morning.” 

“That would be all the better, for then we could choose our 
own time for getting off Gallipoli. We must get up all our 
sail when it is daylight and make a show of doing our best; 
but when one is tacking backwards and forwards one can 
always manage either to keep a little off the wind or so close 
into it as pretty well to deaden one’s way through the water.” 

Horace turned in at four o’clock, and an hour and a half 
later heard a trampling of feet on deck, and knew that the 
watch was making sail. When he went up at eight o’clock 
the wind was blowing briskly from the south-east, and the 
schooner was making a long leg out from the land. He was 
now able to see the set of the sails that had been bent on the 
evening before. The lower sails were of the same size as the 
schooner’s original suit, and fitted her well. The upper sails 
contained less than half the canvas of her old ones, but her 
spread was sufficient to lay her over well and to send her 
through the water at an encouraging rate of speed. 

“ She is not going along so badly, is she, Horace? ” Martyn 
asked. 

“ No, indeed. Of course in a light wind the loss of all that 
upper canvas will tell, but at present she is doing well enough 
for anything, quite well enough for anything we are likely to 
meet.” 

“We have been holding our own for the last two hours with 


All ends well 


391 


that felucca on the other tack, and we have been purposely 
sailing her a good bit off the wind. We could overhaul her 
soon enough if we liked, and most of those boats are fast; but 
we don’t want to get along too quickly. If the wind freshens 
any more I shall tow a sail alongside to deaden her way a bit. 
I want to arrive off Gallipoli about half an hour after sunset.” 

Two of the broadside guns had just been brought up and 
put in position, and by midday the other six and the pivot- 
gun were in place, and the latter hidden by a screen of barrels 
and one of the gigs, bottom upwards, laid over it. The decks 
had been scrubbed, but, as Martyn said mournfully, it would 
take weeks to get them back to their former colour. The 
ropes still hung slackly, and although the schooner looked a 
good deal more ship-shape than when Horace had first seen 
her on the previous day, she was still as untidy as the average 
of vessels in Eastern waters. Her course was timed well, and 
the sun had already sunk some time, when she dropped anchor 
a short distance outside the craft lying off Gallipoli. 

“ I see some of their ships of war have come up from below 
since we passed three days ago. However, there is no fear 
of their sending a boat off to-night,” Martyn said as they gath¬ 
ered in the cabin for dinner, “and they will naturally suppose 
that we anchored so far out because we were going on down 
the straits the first thing in the morning.” 

Mr. Beveridge had remained in his berth all day. The 
reaction after the long excitement and anxiety told severely 
upon him. Although he had got up the first thing, he had 
been obliged to lie down again, being too weak to stand. The 
doctor, however, told Horace that this was only to be expected. 

“He will want a week’s quiet and plenty of nourishment to 
set him on his legs again. He has been fairly worn out. But 
there is no fever about him, and we can trust the Greeks to 
feed him up. It is just as well that he should keep perfectly 
quiet to-day and sleep as much as he can. To-morrow I hope 
I shall be able to get him up on deck. Then chatting with 
you and taking an interest in things will rouse him.” 


392 


IN GREEK WATERS 


At nine o’clock sail was again made and the anchor weighed. 
The wind had gone down very much, and had veered round 
to the south, which enabled them to lay their course through 
the greater part of the straits. Two men were placed in the 
chains with lead-lines. The lights were all extinguished, with 
the exception of the binnacle. The tarpaulins were removed 
from the guns and the barrels and gig from around the pivot- 
gun. The watch off duty was sent below, and two of the 
keenest-eyed men on board placed as look-outs at the bow. 
The European shore, which was comparatively high, could be 
made out as a dark bank, but the Asiatic shore, which was 
low, could scarcely be seen. The chart was laid on the cabin 
table, the port-holes having all been carefully covered with 
curtains, and a tarpaulin laid over the skylight. 

The men in the chains kept on taking soundings, Horace 
going backwards and forwards between them and the quarter¬ 
deck with the news as to the depth of water. Miller was 
in charge of the deck, while Martyn paid frequent visits to 
the cabin to determine their position on the chart according 
to the depth of the soundings. There was no fear of their 
meeting with any craft until they approached the forts; but 
in the darkness it was necessary to be very careful, as the water 
was shallow on the eastern side, and were they to run on to a 
shoal, going as they were with the force of the current, there 
would be little chance of getting off again, unless by lightening 
the ship. There was just wind enough to give her steerage¬ 
way. Men were stationed in readiness to let go the anchor 
instantly, should it be necessary; while ten men, in the long¬ 
boat, paddled gently ahead of her, just keeping a tow-rope 
taut in readiness to tow her instantly in any direction that 
might be required. None of them were acquainted with the 
set of the current, and Martyn had only the depth of water 
and the dim outline of the banks to direct his course by. 
Several times, when the water shoaled, the crew of the boat 
were directed to row vigorously in the direction of the right 
bank; and once or twice there were but a few feet under the 


All ends well 


393 


keel, and a keen feeling of anxiety was experienced on board 
until the leads-man announced that the water was deepening. 
At last, according to Martyn’s calculations they could not be 
far away from the formidable forts. 

The boat was directed to fall astern and hang on to the 
rope, in readiness either to come on board or to carry out any 
orders.that might be given. The crew on deck were told to 
take axes and capstan-bars, so that should they drive down 
against one of the Turkish ships they could fend the schooner 
off as much as possible, or cut away any rope that might catch. 
They were directed to stand perfectly still, and not a word 
was to be spoken whatever happened. The greatest danger 
lay in the fact that most of the ships of war were lying above 
the forts, and that, consequently, should an alarm be given by 
them, the gunners at the batteries would be in readiness to 
pour in their fire upon her as she passed. 

“The ground to our right looks much higher than it did, 
Miller. I think we must have been drifting a good deal oVer 
towards that side.” 

“I think so too,” Miller agreed. “I have been fancying 
that we were getting over that way ever since we stopped 
sounding.” 

“At any rate we must take our chance,” Martyn said. “I 
daren’t sound again; the splash would attract attention half a 
mile away on a quiet night like this. Besides?, we could not 
tow her the other way now; we must take our chance. It is 
not likely they are keeping much of a look-out on board. We 
might pass within twenty yards of a vessel without being noticed 
on such a night as this. I will stay at the helm, Miller. 
Her sails are still full, and we have got steerage-way. Do 
you go up into the bow. Let two of the men take their boots 
off, and if they make out anything ahead, let one of them run 
to me like lightning with orders whether to port or starboard 
the helm.” 

The conversation was carried on in the lowest tone. Miller 
stole lightly forward; Tarleton and Horace were already there, 
one on each bow, straining their eyes into the darkness. 


394 


IN GREEK WATERS 


“We are a long way over on this side, Miller, I don’t believe 
that high ground over there is more than two or three hundred 
yards away.” 

“That is just what I have been saying, Tarleton. The 
current must have set us across tremendously. Martyn is at 
the helm, and you see we are heading off that shore, but I 
don’t think we are going more than a couple of knots through 
the water.” 

In five minutes Tarleton whispered: 

“I think there is something dark just over the cathead.” 

At the same moment Horace stepped from the other side. 

“There is a ship a short way ahead, Miller, unless I am 
mistaken.” 

“ By Jove, so there is! ” Miller said, looking out. “ We shall 
never be able to clear her with the current taking us down.” 

He had kicked off his own shoes when he reached the bow, 
thinking it better himself to carry any message. 

“Port your helm, Martyn,” he said as he ran up. “There 
are two craft ahead, and we can never clear the outside one 
in this current. Our only chance is to run between them.” 

Martyn had jammed the helm down as Miller spoke. 

“Keep it there,” Martyn said to the helmsman, and sprang 
to the bulwark to look out himself. “That is enough,” he 
said; “ straighten her now, just as she is. You con her from 
the other side, Miller.” 

All on board saw the two vessels now. By their height and 
bulk they were evidently large frigates or men-of-war. They 
were not fifty yards away, and were about the same distance 
apart. Martyn pulled off his jacket and threw it over the 
binnacle, as its light would have been at once noticed by any¬ 
one looking down from the lofty hulls. Noiselessly the 
schooner passed into the gap between the ships; not the 
slightest sound was heard from her decks. The two officers 
looked anxiously up at the sails, for had one of these flapped, 
or a block rattled, the sleepiest look-out must have noticed 
it. The silence on the decks of the Turkish ships was as 


ALL ENDS WELL 


395 


profound as that on the schooner. Rapidly the latter slid 
between them, the current taking her along faster than the 
wind. A minute more and she was beyond them; still no 
hail was heard. Another minute and they loomed dark and 
indistinct behind her. 

“Thank God for that!” Miller said in a whisper as he 
crossed the deck to Martyn. 

“Yes, indeed; it was touch and go. I expect they have 
only an anchor watch. Most likely they are asleep; they 
would know that nothing could come up the straits with this 
light breeze. I think, Miller, those are the two eighty-gun 
ships we noticed as we came up. They were moored a good 
bit outside the others; in which case we have a clear course 
before us.” 

“Yes; I have no doubt those are the two,” Miller agreed. 

“Now we have only the forts; they are about a quarter of a 
mile further down. Go forward, please, and tell the men not 
to move till they get orders.” 

Another quarter of an hour passed, and Martyn felt sure 
that they were now well beyond the forts. For a few minutes 
longer he held on, and then passed the word along the deck 
that the danger was over. Now that they knew their exact 
position there was no longer any occasion for sounding. The 
men in the boat were called up, and the watch off duty ordered 
below, and when morning broke the land was far behind them. 
A brisk wind had sprung up from the south-east, and the 
vessel was just able to lay her course for Athens. 

The doctor had remained below during their passage through 
the straits. 

“ I should only have been in the way if I had been on deck,” 
he said when Horace -chaffed him for taking matters so easily. 
“When a man can do no good, it is always better for him to 
get out of the way; and after all there is no great pleasure in 
stand.ing for hours afraid to move, and without any duty to 
perform; so I just chatted for a bit with your father, and 
directly I saw the sleeping draught I had given him was 


396 


IN GREEK WATERS 


beginning to take effect I turned in myself, and had as com¬ 
fortable a sleep as ever I had in my life. After sleeping on 
sofas for three weeks, in that heathen sort of way, it was a 
comfort to get between sheets again.” 

“Well, but you went to bed the night before, doctor? ” 

“That was so,” the doctor agreed. “But a good thing is 
just as good the second time as it is the first—better, perhaps. 
The first time the novelty of a thing prevents you altogether 
enjoying it. I knew very well that if we ran into any of the 
Turkish ships, or the forts opened fire at us, I was like to hear 
it plainly enough.” 

“And would you have lain there then, doctor? ” 

“No, lad. I would have had my duties to perform; and I 
would have dressed and gone into the main deck at once, with 
my instruments ready to do anything I could for those that 
required it.” 

“Have you seen my father this morning, doctor?” 

“Yes; and I am glad to say that he is all the better for his 
two nights’ sleep. His pulse is stronger, and I shall get him 
up here after breakfast. The news that we were fairly out to 
sea, and that all danger was over, was better for him than any 
medicine. Well, lad, we did not think eight-and-forty hours 
ago that we would be racing down the yEgean again, on board 
the Misericordia , by this time. We have had a wonderful 
escape of it altogether, and I would not like to go through it 
again for enough money to set me up for life in Scotland. 
When we were on board that Turkish brig, on our way to 
Constantinople, I would not have given a bawbee for our 
chances.” 

When they arrived at Athens the Greek sailors who had per¬ 
sonated Turks were landed. Mr. Beveridge was unequal to 
the exertion of going ashore; but day after day he was visited 
by politicians, military leaders, and others. After a fortnight 
spent there, Dr. Macfarlane said to him: 

“It is no use, sir, my giving you medicines and trying to 
build you up, if you are going on as you are now doing. 


ALL ENDS WELL 


397 


You are losing strength, man, instead of gaining it. Each 
morning you seem a little better; each evening you are fagged 
and worn out by these importunate beggars. I can see that it 
worries and dispirits you. It is all very good to wish well to 
Greece, Mr. Beveridge; but unless you have a desire to be 
buried in Greek soil, the sooner you are out of this the better. 
It is not so much change of air as change of thought that you 
require. Go anywhere, so that it is to some place where you 
will never hear the name of Greece.” 

“ I think you are right, doctor. The worry and disappoint¬ 
ment has, I know, been telling on me for months. Yes, I will 
definitely decide to go away, at any rate for a time. Will you 
ask Captain Martyn to come down? ” 

“Captain Martyn,” he went on when the latter entered the 
cabin, “ the doctor tells me I must absolutely get away from 
here.” 

“ I am quite sure that he is right, sir. You have'been grad¬ 
ually wearing yourself out ever since you came here.” 

“I think we will go back to England in the first place, 
Martyn. I have no doubt more bracing air will do me good. 
Then we can see how events go on here.” 

“Very well, sir. I think we shall be all heartily glad to be 
on our way back.” 

“You had better go ashore at once, Martyn. Take Horace 
with you, and go to my agents. You know they have always 
kept the papers in readiness for a re-sale of the vessel back 
to me. Go with them to the consulate and have the sale 
formally registered. I will write a note for you to take to my 
agent.” 

Ten minutes later the gig took Martyn and Horace ashore. 
They returned four hours later. There was a little move of 
excitement among the crew as they stepped on deck again, for 
through the Greeks, who had heard the news from Mr. Bever¬ 
idge, it had spread forward. On reaching the deck Martyn 
went to the signal locker. “Now, Miller,” he said, “down 
with that flag.” 


398 


IN GREEK WATERS 


The Greek flag fluttered down from the peak, and as the 
British ensign was run up in its place Martyn took off his cap 
and shouted: “Three cheers for the old flag, lads!” and the 
shout, given with all the strength of the lungs of officers and 
crew, showed how hearty was the pleasure that was felt at the 
change. As soon as the cheers had subsided orders were given 
to get down the awnings and prepare to make sail. In a few 
minutes the clank of the anchor chain was heard, and by the 
evening the schooner was running down past the shores of the 
Morea. 

A month later they anchored in Portsmouth. Here half 
the crew were paid off, and as during their absence from Eng¬ 
land they had had but small opportunities of spending money, 
they had nearly two years’ pay coming to them, together with 
^30 a head, being their share of the prize-money. The re¬ 
mainder of the crew also received their pay and prize-money 
and two months’ leave of absence. Mr. Beveridge and Horace 
had had many discussions on the subject, and it had been 
agreed that the Misericordia (now again, since she re-hoisted 
the English flag, the Creole) should for a time be kept up as a 
yacht, with a complement of two officers and twenty men. 
Martyn, having been consulted, had chatted the matter over 
with Miller and Tarleton. Although both these had enjoyed 
their trip greatly, and had made a comfortable sum in pay and 
prize-money, both preferred to return to the Royal Navy, if 
they could do so, rather than remain in a yacht; and Mr. 
Beveridge promised to use his influence as soon as he returned 
to get them appointed to ships. This promise he was able to 
fulfil a few weeks after his arrival at home. 

For home cruising as a yacht, Martyn considered that Tom 
Burdett would be sufficient for him. If she again went out to 
Greece there would be no difficulty in obtaining other officers 
and making up the crew to its full strength. Portsmouth had 
been chosen instead of Plymouth as their point of arrival, 
because from there Mr. Beveridge could much more easily get 
up to town, Dr. Macfarlane insisting that he should go up to 
obtain the best medical advice. 


ALL ENDS WELL 


399 


“But there is nothing the matter with me,” Mr. Beveridge 
had urged. 

“That is just i4 sir. If you had anything the matter with 
you I might have a chance of curing it. It is because I can’t 
see any reason why you do not gain strength that I want other 
opinion about you.” 

The doctor had frequently talked it over with Horace dur¬ 
ing the voyage. 

“ I can see nothing bodily the matter with your father, Hor¬ 
ace. I wish I could. There is nothing to account for his 
being in this feeble state. All that he says is that he feels 
tired. My opinion is that really this is a sort of reaction 
after mental excitement, just as there is reaction after great 
bodily fatigue. Your father has lived a smooth, easy, tranquil 
life, and the change, the excitement, the worry, and his utter 
disappointment with the Greeks themselves, have had the same 
sort of effect upon him as a climb up to the top of Ben Nevis 
might have on a man who did not stir out of his house for 
months together. As for that being the cause I have no doubt 
whatever. It is as to the cure that I want to consult with 
some big-wig. I don’t know whether quiet or movement 
would be the best for him. He could have had no quiet more 
complete than that he has had on the way home, and yet it 
has done him no good. If he were to go down home the 
inducement to arouse himself would be still less. But what 
sort of change would really suit him is more than I can say.” 

Horace thoroughly agreed with the doctor. If even the 
cheerful society on board the yacht did not rouse his father, 
he dreaded what it would be when he was at home, with no 
one to stir him up in any way. There were two or three con¬ 
sultations in town with some of the leaders of the profession. 
After hearing the whole circumstances they were unanimous 
in agreeing that there seemed no serious disease of any kind, 
but at the same time his condition gave cause of anxiety. 

“Your patient is evidently a man of highly nervous organi¬ 
zation, and at present his nerves are a wreck. We quite 


400 


IN GREEK WATERS 


agree with you that were he to go down to a lonely house in 
the country he would probably sink into the grave in a few 
months at the outside. If you could get him to go in that yacht 
of his on some expedition in which he feels what I may call a 
healthy interest, it might do him good. I should say a cold 
climate would be better for him than a warm one. He has 
had more than enough of that enervating work in Greek waters. 
Try and interest him in Polar expeditions. There have been 
a great many of them just lately. Ross and Parry and Frank¬ 
lin have all been trying their best to find the North-west 
Passage, which is not likely to be of any good if they do find 
it; but that is nothing to the point. Get him interested in 
the matter, and let him go and poke about for a bit among the 
icebergs. If you can get him to do that we see no reason 
why in time his mind should not recover its tone.” 

The matter had to be done cautiously. Horace professed 
a vast interest in the recent expeditions; the doctor was full 
of interesting facts, and little by little they kindled an inter¬ 
est on the subject in Mr. Beveridge’s mind; and when Hor¬ 
ace broke out one day, as if the idea had only ju' - Tuck him, 


“My dear father, why shouldn’t we go up nu T the yacht 
for a few months and become explorers? It glorious 

to see the icebergs and to shoot bears and se»p ould be 
a splendid change for us all. I am sure yol ; t Ind it 

frightfully dull going back to Seaport,”—he did ttirely 

repudiate the idea, but said that he should not lik way 

when things were looking so dark for Greece. Fi a 

week later the news came that all the immense p* > s 


the Sultan had been making for an invasion of Gree k . H 
great army had been arrested by a tremendous fire, 1 2 gjp 
to be the work of the janissaries, who did not like th 
pect of leaving Constantinople. The fire had destroy * ; 
the vast stores collected, the artillery, baggage-trains, 
munitions of war of all kinds, and it was probable th. 
least a year would pass before a fresh effort could be mad* 
This news evidently relieved Mr. Beveridge’s mind, < 


ALL ENDS WELL 


401 


when Horace, backed by Macfarlane, returned to the charge, 
he at once consented. Martyn was written to by Horace the 
same day. He at once came up to town, and saw some of 
the officers who had been out with Franklin and Parry. 
Returning to Plymouth, where the Creole was lying, a body 
of shipwrights were at once set to work to strengthen her by 
a network of timber below, and to sheath her with thick plank¬ 
ing outside. The captain of a whaler was engaged as first 
officer. He was to come on board at Dundee, and to bring 
with him twelve picked hands accustomed to the Polar Seas. 
With great exertion the schooner was got ready in a month. 

By this time the enthusiasm expressed by Horace and the 
doctor in the matter had infected Mr. Beveridge, who read 
up everything that had been written on the subject, and was 
visibly very much better by the time they went down with him 
to Portsmouth to join the Creole there. They were away from 
England eighteen months. They made no discoveries of the 
slightest importance, but they had numerous exciting advent¬ 
ures, had many narrow escapes of being nipped by icebergs, 
and passed a winter frozen up in Baffin’s Bay. The voyage 
achieved the object for which it was undertaken. The subject 
of Greece was a forbidden one, and Mr. Beveridge came to 
take a lively interest in the new scenes with which he was 
surrounded, joined in the hunting parties, took a prominent 
part in all the amusements got up for keeping the crew in 
good spirits and health through the winter, and returned to 
England a more healthy and vigorous man than Horace had 
ever before seen him. The Creole had taken out with her 
barrels and all other appurtenances for whaling, and having 
been fairly successful in that way, returned with sufficient oil 
and seal-skins to pay the greater part of her expenses. 

“ I feel another man, Horace, to what I was when I started,” 
Mr. Beveridge said as he stepped ashore at Plymouth. 

“You look a different man, father—a different man al¬ 
together to what you have been since I first remember you. 
I don’t suppose you have grown, but you are so much more 


402 


IN GREEK WATERS 


upright that you look as if you had, and you walk differently, 
and even your voice seems changed. Now, you know, you 
must not go back again.” 

“I don’t mean to, my boy. It seems to me that I have 
thrown away twenty years of my life, and what there is remain¬ 
ing to me shall be spent differently. Now we have got a long 
arrear of news to get up.” 

Horace felt at first uneasy when his father obtained a com¬ 
plete file of the newspapers from the time they had left Eng¬ 
land, and read up the history of affairs in Greece. There was, 
however, little to learn. Two civil wars had taken place, some 
large loans had been raised in England, but had been entirely 
frittered away and wasted; and when in June, 1824, the Turk¬ 
ish fleet had at last sailed, the Greeks had been as unpre¬ 
pared for resistance as they were when they first took up arms. 
Kasos and Psara had both been captured and their inhabitants 
either massacred or carried away into slavery, while the sailors 
of Hydra and Spetzas had not moved a hand to succour their 
countrymen. 

Ibrahim Pasha of Egypt had sent an army to Greece, and 
had besieged Navarino and Pylos. The Greek army had 
advanced to relieve them, but being attacked by half their 
number of Egyptian troops were routed without the least 
difficulty at Krommydi. They were beaten again at Sphak- 
teria, and Pylos and Navarino were forced to surrender; the 
Egyptians observing faithfully the terms they granted, and 
allowing the garrisons to depart in neutral ships. Dikaios 
was defeated and killed at Maniaki, having been deserted by 
all his troops but fifteen hundred. These fought splendidly 
although attacked by six thousand men. A thousand of them 
died on the field after having killed four hundred of their 
assailants. This was by far the most gallant affair throughout 
the war. Kolokotronis assembled ten thousand men, but was 
defeated with the greatest ease with the loss of over two hun¬ 
dred men, most of whom were killed in their flight. 

When the Creole returned to England the siege of Misso- 


ALL ENDS WELL 


403 


longhi had begun. Reshid Pasha’s army, ten thousand strong, 
sat down before it. It was defended with extreme gallantry 
and resisted for many months, while the rest of Greece did 
little to assist it. After six months’ siege Reshid retired, 
being straitened for provisions and suffering from the vigorous 
sorties of the besieged; but in a short time Ibrahim arrived 
with his army and again besieged the place; throwing up 
formidable batteries and works against it. Several times terms 
were offered to the garrison, but were contemptuously refused, 
and several attacks were beaten off with great loss. At last 
the provisions were absolutely exhausted. 

The brave defenders of the town resolved upon a step almost 
unexampled in history, namely, that the whole of the men 
should sally out, placing the women and children in their 
centre, and cut their way through the enemy. There were still 
nine thousand persons in the town, of whom only three thou¬ 
sand were men capable of bearing arms, two thousand men, 
women, and children were too weak from starvation and dis¬ 
ease to join the movement; the rest were divided into three 
divisions. Most of the women dressed themselves in men’s 
clothing and carried arms, and even the children had loaded 
pistols. Unfortunately the Turks had been informed by a 
deserter that the attempt was about to be made. 

The three divisions, in spite of the opposition of the Turks, 
attacked with such fury that they made their way through the 
lines of the enemy; but the people of Missolonghi itself, who 
were to form the fourth division and follow the others, were 
seized with a panic and fell back into the town. Had the 
Greeks outside fulfilled their promise, and moved forward a 
body of troops stationed a short distance away to receive the 
defenders of the place when they reached the open country, all 
the rest would have been saved; but instead of the fifteen 
hundred who were to have met them, but fifty were there. 
The Turkish cavalry and the Albanians harassed and cut them 
up, and even those who gained the shelter of the hills received 
no assistance from the irregulars, and many perished from 


404 


IN GREEK WATERS 


hunger and disease, and finally only fifteen hundred escaped. 
The soldiers left behind in Missolonghi either by wounds or 
sickness intrenched themselves in stone buildings, and there 
defended themselves till the last, blowing up the magazines 
and dying in the ruins when they could no longer hold out. 
Four thousand Greeks were killed, three thousand were taken 
prisoners, chiefly women and children, and two thousand alto¬ 
gether escaped. The Acropolis of Athens resisted stoutly for 
a long time, but at last fell. The Greeks were defeated in 
almost every action upon which they entered, and affairs went 
from bad to worse, until the European governments at last 
determined to interfere; and their united fleets destroyed that 
of the Turks at the battle of Navarino, and forced Turkey to 
grant the independence of Greece. 

As these events happened Mr. Beveridge followed their 
course with interest, but it was only with the interest shown 
by Englishmen in general. His personal feeling in the matter 
had entirely left him. During the last four years of the strug¬ 
gle there was no sign whatever that misfortune and disaster 
had had any effect in inducing the Greeks to lay aside their 
personal jealousies and ambitions, or to make any common 
effort against the enemy. The large sums they had received 
from the loans raised for the most part in England were spent 
in the most unworthy uses. They covered their uniforms 
with gold lace, and the dress of the men on foot often cost 
fifty pounds; those of horsemen ten times that amount. They 
affected all through to despise the Turks, and yet, except the 
fifteen hundred men under Dikaios and the defenders of 
Missolonghi, they never once opposed anything like an obsti¬ 
nate resistance to them, and the last show of resistance was 
almost crushed out when the intervention of Europe saved 
them. 

The Creole had been laid up after her return from the 
Arctic Seas. Mr. Beveridge had purchased a large share in a 
fine East Indiaman, making the proviso that Martyn should 
be appointed to the command, he himself buying a share in 


ALL ENDS WELL 


405 


her with the money he had earned during the four years’ ser¬ 
vice on board the schooner. Mr. Beveridge had, to the 
immense satisfaction of his aunt, Mrs. Fordyce, entirely aban¬ 
doned the study of Greek, devoted himself to the affairs of 
his estate, became an active magistrate, and had, three years 
after his return, stood for Parliament as member for the 
county, and had won the seat. Horace was twenty when they 
returned from the north. He had a long talk with his father 
as to his future prospects and career. He was too old now 
to take up the thread of his studies again or to go to the uni¬ 
versity, and he finally determined, at the advice of his father, 
to study for the bar. 

“ You will never have any occasion to practise, Horace, but i 
a few months every year in London will make a pleasant 
change for you; and as you may look to be a county magis¬ 
trate some day you will find a knowledge of the law very useful 
to you. You will be in London five or six months every year, 
then you will have your shooting and hunting in the winter, 
and we will have two or three months’ cruise together in the 
Creole. I find that our expedition in Greece cost me, one 
way and another, just fifteen thousand pounds, which is a good 
deal less than I should have thrown away if it had not been 
for your advice. I hear that it is likely that Sir James Hob- 
house’s estate will be in the market before long, and I think, 
as it almost adjoins ours, I shall buy it. I fancy that I shall 
get it for about thirty thousand pounds. That I should settle 
on you at once. I am not fifty yet, and feel that I have more 
life in me than I ever had, and I don’t want you to be wait¬ 
ing another twenty or thirty years to step into my shoes. Its 
management will be an occupation for you, and then you can 
marry whenever you feel inclined.” 

This happened four years later; it arose out of a meeting at 
a dinner party in London. Horace had taken down a very 
pretty girl to whom he had just been introduced. He thought 
that she looked at him rather curiously when his name was 
mentioned. They chatted on all sorts of subjects during 
dinner, and when the ladies arose to go she said: “ Please 


406 


IN GREEK WATERS 


find me out when you come upstairs. I have a question I par¬ 
ticularly want to ask you, but I could not very well do it here. 
Please do not forget, for it is important.” A good deal 
puzzled Horace made his way upstairs as soon as he could and 
saw that the girl was with another lady sitting in a quiet cor¬ 
ner of the drawing-room. He crossed to them at once. 
“Mother,” the young lady said, “this is Mr. Beveridge.” 

“You are right, Ada,” the lady said, rising and holding out 
her hand, “ I recognize him at once now I see him. Oh, Mr. 
Beveridge, you do not know how we have longed to see you 
again, and you don’t know us, do you? ” 

“No, I can’t say that I do, madam,” Horace replied, more 
and more astonished. 

“I am the lady you saved from being sold as a slave at 
Algiers when you captured the ship we were in off the coast 
of Asia Minor. This is my daughter. No wonder you don’t 
remember us for I was a strange-looking creature in that Greek 
dress, and Ada was but a child.” 

“I remember you now, Mrs. Herbert,” Horace exclaimed. 
“ I ought to have done so before, as we were four or five days 
on board together.” 

“You must have thought us so ungrateful,” Mrs. Herbert 
said; “but we were not so; we never knew where to write to 
when you were out in Greece. Then two or three years after¬ 
wards we heard from someone who had been out there that 
you had returned, and my husband, who left Smyrna and came 
back to England after we got back, made all sorts of inquiries, 
and found out at last that you had gone away again on an 
Arctic expedition. Then he went out to Malta, where we 
have been living for the last three years, and only returned a 
month ago to England. My husband had to return to Smyrna; 
he had large business connections there that could not be 
broken off suddenly. Nothing could induce me ever to return 
there, but it was an easy run for him to Malta, and he was 
able to come and stay with us for a week or so every two or 
three months. For the last year he was training the son of 
the senior partner of the house to take his place at Smyrna, and 



ALL ENDS WELL 


407 


he himself has now come back altogether, as Mr. Hamblyn has 
now retired, and he is the head of the firm. He is not here 
to-night, but will be delighted to hear that we have found you.” 

“We have been back three years,” Horace said. 

“ Of course we did not know that you were in England. It 
has been a great grief to us. It seemed so extraordinary that 
after being saved by you from the most awful of all fates you 
should have disappeared out of our life as suddenly as you 
came into it. Of course it was not much to you—you who 
saved so many hundreds, we heard afterwards thousands of 
women and girls from slavery; but to us it was everything. 
And your father, Mr. Beveridge, is he quite well?” 

“Yes, he is far better than I have ever known him to be. 
I am going down next week to help him; he is going to stand 
for our part of the county for Parliament. There is a vacancy 
there, and I fancy that he has a very good chance.” 

“Is he, indeed? He did not give me the idea of being a 
man who would have cared for that sort of thing. Of course 
we only saw him just for those four days.” 

“ I am happy to say that he has changed very much since 
then. He came home very ill from Greece, but our eighteen 
months among the ice entirely set him up and made a new 
man of him. I am sure he will be very pleased when he hears 
that I have met you. And did you recognize me at once, 
Miss Herbert? ” 

“The name helped me,” the girl said. “When I heard it I 
felt sure it was you at once. It was very hard work sitting 
there talking to you as if you were a stranger.” 

“Why did you not tell me at once? ” Horace asked smiling. 

She did not answer, but her mother said for her: “You can’t 
tell how we felt about you and your father, Mr. Beveridge, or 
you would not ask the question. The chances are that if Ada 
had told you who she was she would have burst out crying. 
She told me it was as much as she could do to restrain herself; 
and I think we have both had a quiet cry in this corner since 
we came upstairs. Now, please give me your address in town? ” 


408 


IN GREEK WATERS 


“I have chambers in Mitre Court Temple, No. 3.” 

“My husband will call to see you the first thing in the 
morning, I am sure. Mr. Beveridge and you must dine with 
us quietly to-morrow, so that we can talk it all over. You are 
not, I hope, engaged." 

Horace was not engaged, but if he had been he would 
probably have thrown it over. 

Under these circumstances it was not very much to wonder 
at that a few months later the Morning Post contained this 
announcement:—“We understand that a marriage has been 
arranged between Mr. Horace Beveridge, the son of Mr. H. 
Beveridge, M.P., and Ada, only child of Mr. Herbert, of 
Bedford Square, the head of the firm of Herbert & Sandeson, 
the well-known firm of Levant merchants. We understand 
the acquaintance of Mr. Beveridge with the young lady he is 
now about to lead to the altar commenced under singularly 
romantic circumstances in the Levant six years ago." 

On the day after their marriage Horace and his wife sailed 
to spend their honeymoon among the fiords of Norway and in 
the Baltic on board the C?'eole. She was commanded by 
Miller, whose ship had been paid off a month previously, and 
Tarleton, whose frigate belonged to the Channel squadron, 
obtained three months’ leave to sail in her as first officer. 
Macfarlane was with them for a fortnight, not being able to 
get away for a longer time from the practice in which he had 
purchased a partnership at Plymouth. Tom Burdett went, of 
course, in his old capacity; but this was his last trip in her 
though he long remained the commander of the Surf \ which 
was always kept in commission at Seaport, and in which 
HoirjeJaboysjAnd tfirlsJearned to love the sea as much as did 
theiffaTner. 7 . 4 ' *8 


THE END 


Typography by J. S. Cushing & Co., Boston, U.S.A. 


Presswork by Berwick & Smith, Boston, U.S.A. 














































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